REFLECTION
by Rolla
Summary: Buffy's set up shop in a new Hellmouth when a surprise from her past arrives. But something wrong with Spike, what is it? Slightly AU, Post Chosen, Rated M.
1. Signed, Sealed, Delivered

_**REFLECTION**_

_**AN: There's a lot of plot exposition in this first chapter, forgive me. Mainly flashback though the present begins and ends this segment. Anya is still alive in this world. Post BtVS: Chosen, slightly AU from AtS Season 5 happenings. You'll see what I mean.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own BtVS or AtS. Please don't sue.**_

_**Chapter One  
**__**Signed, Sealed, Delivered.**_

_**Present Time**_

"Is there a reason for the reflection thing?" Dawn asked suddenly, dropping her pen into the fold of her magazine and looking up thoughtfully.

"What?" Came the absent chorus from Xander and Spike as they continued to watch T.V.

The two men rarely spent time together like this, or any time together really, but since the events of this past year, the survivors had found themselves unconsciously wanting to be around each other. Of course, the presence of Dawn and Anya made the situation a little more normal.

"I mean, we all know vampires don't have reflections but, is there like, a reason _why _they don't?" Dawn clarified.

"Don't know, love," said Spike, still half listening as he shifted in his chair.

"We've taken pictures…" Dawn mumbled, retrieving her pen and mindlessly tapping against the table.

"Sorry?" Spike obliged, though still focused on the television screen.

"We've taken pictures, together. Why do you show up in the photo but not in the mirror?"

"That's actually a good point," Anya chimed in, now actually having caught Dawn's question.

"I don't know…" Spike shrugged.

"The camera is supposed to be the window to the soul…" Xander mused absently.

"That's the eyes," Dawn corrected.

"What?" Xander asked, unsure of the conversation he'd inadvertently joined.

"The _eyes _are the window to the soul…" Dawn furthered.

"Vampires don't have souls," Spike reminded her.

"_You_ have a soul," Anya reminded _him._

"Yeah, I've got eyes too, what's your point?" Spike countered.

"Yeah but…" Anya started.

"Wait, what?" Xander asked.

"I'm confused," Dawn chirped.

"Preaching to the choir, pet," Spike sighed and stood up, wandering toward the hall.

"Where are you going?" Dawn wondered.

"Studio. See if Buffy's done kicking the old man's ass yet."

Dawn nodded as she returned to her magazine quiz, feeling slightly flummoxed by the fruitless discussion she'd begun moments ago as Anya and Xander remained still, focused on the television.

"What's. The. Point!" Buffy said between punches and kicks, grunting as she blasted her foot into the pads strapped to Giles' hands.

"If you feel this way then why are you still here?" Giles asked cautiously as she threw him off balance slightly.

"Good…."She started to say, rearing up to kick, "Point!" She cried, landing her heel firmly into the pad before settling back to the ground and heading for the door.

"Just because you're not the only living slayer anymore doesn't mean you don't still have to train."

"If you ask me, I'd say she's _proven_ she doesn't have to," Spike said suddenly, taking the final steps down to the basement floor.

Buffy and Giles spun around to regard the blond vampire, each carrying a very different expression to his sudden presence.

"Well I didn't ask you, did I?" Giles spat quickly if not flustered.

Spike snickered as Buffy smirked but said nothing before crossing over to the mini-fridge and grabbing a soda.

"Anyone? Soda, water?" Buffy asked as she reached for a can for herself.

"Uh…no, no thank you," Giles sighed loudly as Spike collapsed into a chair in the corner.

"Take some blood, if you got it?" He said cheekily as Buffy glared at him.

"Some things never change," she said with a roll of her eyes, tossing him a blood packet before set off to pour it into a mug and heat it up in the microwave.

"Well, I suppose we're done then?" Giles interrupted, circling back to the conversation he and Buffy were having before Spike appeared.

"For _today_," she said with a warm smile as Giles exhaled in relief. "You're right, Giles. An army of slayers worldwide is no excuse to get sloppy."

Giles gave her a stern look but she smiled through it. She couldn't resist poking fun at the man's relentless protocol and protectiveness. Reminding him that Willow's magic had sufficiently rewritten history was becoming a daily ritual. Though she knew deep down he was right to make her continue training. She made need to lead this "army", as she called it, one day. Better to be prepared.

"Very well then," Giles said softly. "I'll just…" he started, narrowing his gaze at Spike, "I'll just leave you two…" he finished unceremoniously; tugging the sparring pads off of his hands and tossing them to the floor before ascending the stairs back to the house.

Buffy watched him until he shut the door behind him before spinning back around to face the other man still present.

Spike had been the champion; the one "greater than a human but possessed with a soul" that saved the world. The amulet Angel had given her should have disappeared with Spike forever after the Hellmouth collapsed. And it did, for a time. The world as they knew it had been altered forever. With Willow's spell and subsequent ascension into Goddesshood, every girl who could be, every potential slayer; would be.

Spike, wearing the amulet, personifying sunshine as he obliterated The First's entire legion of uber-vamps, disintegrated along with the rest. At the time, the remaining Scooby gang plus Dawn, Anya, Andrew, Robin, Faith and a handful of new slayers; wondered where they'd go next. What they'd do now that the largest center for demonic activity had been vanquished. It didn't take long for Giles' to unearth the potential of another Hellmouth in Cleveland, Ohio. After a week of seemingly driving to nowhere, Buffy finally conceded. She buried her grief at having lost Spike for the sake of the world and moved on to set up shop in Cleveland.

Then the mail came.

It hadn't taken long, nor had been as complicated as they all had thought it would be, to reestablish a headquarters of sorts. With collective funds from everyone; though Giles mostly, the core four plus twelve had settled on an abandoned apartment building that had once housed a dance studio. It was perfect. The studio was street level, with two floors of apartments above it. Xander led the charge of refurbishing and constructing, with the man power of the new slayers and Robin. Anya reluctantly found assistance in Faith, with all things financial. As it turned out, Faith was rather adept at handling money. The two women were able to secure city permits and licenses and contracts without a hitch. At least, Buffy refused to inquire how those two had managed it all so swimmingly. So she continued to believe it had all been taken care of without a hitch.

Dawn and Willow took up the practical knowledge portion of their new headquarters; locating and purchasing old and new materials for a refurbished library. Willow now had an infinite power as a Goddess to attain any information, be it mystical or otherwise, that she wished. Of course, being Willow, she had wanted to attain the resources as normally as possible.

The most surprising conspirators were Giles and Andrew. The Watcher's Council had been destroyed by the Bringers, though Watchers still existed worldwide, as did bits of information and resources imperative to their cause. When the older man divulged to the group the necessity for him to return to his home in England for a time to begin the resurrection of a new council here in Ohio, Andrew practically fainted with enthusiasm to join him. And though Giles was apprehensive at first, the gang was already split into the most effective groupings. And Buffy needed to stay in Giles' stead. So Giles and Andrew left for England for a month, gathering everything they needed to bring back to the states.

Buffy, as usual, was the odd man out. Checking in with every prospective venture on occasion, but mostly stayed solo. She decided to dedicate herself to the most normal aspect of their new lives; domesticity. She was the one who squared away their living assignments and furnished and decorated the apartments. She made keys for everyone at the hardware store, went grocery shopping, separated the mail delivery (as their training center was now by day under the guise of a self-defense studio) into business and personal mail. Of course, not much personal mail ever arrived, seeing as only a select few knew of the group's relocation, namely Angel and his closest associates.

A personal package did arrive though, marking its arrival almost eight months after the Sunnydale Hellmouth had been destroyed.

_**One year Ago**_

_Willow set the lumpy envelope before Buffy on the counter one afternoon, resuming her self-imposed obligation to watch longingly at her girlfriend, Kennedy, "training" women in self-defense for the day. Their disguised business was successful. And as strange energy and occurrences became more noticeable in the area, women and men alike came flocking to their studio ready to enroll. _

_Of course, none of their patrons knew that their various instructors (all female with the occasional exception of Robin) were Vampire Slayers. But they didn't need to know. Their customers were simply being taught by the best "self-defense" instructors in the world. And that was a good enough credential._

_Buffy eyed the envelope skeptically before deciding to open it. She knew who it was from. Angel's penmanship was far too calligraphyish to be forgotten. Sighing, she slid her thumb carelessly along the edge and tore the package open, dumping the contents onto the counter. But what she saw rattle onto the linoleum practically made her head spin. _

_Gasping rather loudly, Buffy hardly noticed the concerned looks from some of the students, Kennedy and Willow as she collected the object and torn packaging and scrambled up the steps toward her own apartment._

_Willow followed her instinctively, knowing something was amiss. Buffy paced around her room as the would-be goddess affectionately traced the amulet's decorative visage with her finger. _

"_It was so beautiful," Willow whispered._

"_Operative word being 'was'," Buffy cried, still pacing._

"_Where did this come from?"_

"_Angel sent it," Buffy explained, finally coming to a stop to lean against her closet door._

"_But how did-"_

"_I don't know, Wil," Buffy cut in, "I don't know."_

"_Well, what does this mean? I mean, why? I don't understand."_

"_I don't either. I thought the amulet burned up with the rest of the Hellmouth, with Sp-"_

_She couldn't say his name. She had come too far, reasoning and accepting her grief to think about it again. She didn't love him, it wasn't about that. But in a strange way, as everything else in her universe was, Spike had become a friend and part of their group. To lose him, albeit to save the world, was still a devastating blow. Buffy had finally come to terms with it and here now was this painful reminder of someone she'd lost; sent to her by yet another someone she'd lost. The irony was wicked._

"_I could look into it, if you want?" Willow suggested after a moment._

_Buffy lifted her head and gave Willow a shrug, "I don't want you to have to go all Clash of the Titans."_

"_Well, that would be quicker but maybe I can figure this out the old fashioned way, ya know? Like, do some research and stuff? Maybe, the original Scooby Gang can reconvene in the book room and investigate?"_

_Buffy gave the young woman a small smile, "Maybe I should just call Angel and ask him."_

_Willow nodded, somewhat dejectedly and set the amulet down on Buffy's bed. "If you want…"_

"_Thanks, Wil," Buffy stopped her with a smile before Willow dutifully nodded and let herself out of the room._

_Buffy remained standing, staring at the glistening charm seated on her mattress before sighing and picking up the phone._

"_Hey, it's me," she said as the man on the other line answered. "Yeah, I did. I got it."_

_**Four Months Ago**_

"_Did it…did it work?" Xander asked slowly, opening his good eye carefully to assess the room._

"_Doesn't look like it," Anya scoffed._

"_Damn it!" Xander shouted as he stood up and ran to the light switch, flipping it on aggressively._

"_Xander, calm down," Anya scolded._

"_Dawnie said she wanted a lunar birthday party!" Xander fumed, rushing up the ladder toward the ceiling. "How am I supposed to make a lunar birthday party if this stupid glow in the dark paint doesn't glow in the dark?"_

_Anya shrugged as Buffy, Giles and Andrew entered the studio._

"_Hey!" Buffy called out as she began relieving the numerous shopping bags from Giles and Andrew and setting them on the counter._

"_How's the uh….preparations coming?" Giles wondered, pulling off his glasses to give them a quick wipe._

"_What's that smell?" Andrew asked as he approached the bottom of the ladder to regard a flustered Xander above him._

"_Paint," Anya provided._

"_You're painting?" Giles sputtered, "But, but….why on earth are…"_

"_Dawn wanted a lunar birthday party," Anya stated plainly once again._

"_So you decided to desecrate our training facility with glow in the dark paint?" Giles said as he crossed to the floor where the supplies were._

"_Not so glowy," Xander quipped as he descended the ladder. "It didn't work."_

"_Oh, well that's a relief," Giles said, examining the paint cans before turning back to the group._

"_It's okay Xand," Buffy said as she folded up another empty paper bag into her pile, "I can go back out and get some of those plastic star things."_

"_I bet it would have looked cool. Like a star field," Andrew said suddenly, still staring up at the ceiling where Xander had been working._

"_That was kind of the idea, yeah," Xander spat, collapsing onto the floor to clean up his mess._

"_Dawn wanted her astrological constellation surrounded by stars," Anya explained as she bent down to help Xander clean up._

"_Well, perhaps a sketch or something could still be rendered?" Giles suggested; crossing over to Buffy who silently directed him to sort out the party favors into designated piles._

"_That could be really nice," Buffy agreed._

"_What, like a giant poster on the ceiling? Come on," Xander huffed._

"_Frankie and Talia are really good at drawing," Andrew chimed in, mentioning two of the newest slayers._

"_Yeah, well so is Angel," Xander mocked, turning to Buffy as he stood, "Hey Buffster, why don't we get Angel to draw a giant bull for Dawnie's b-day bash?"_

_Buffy and Giles both turned and sent Xander a scowl. _

"_Or not," Xander cowered, shuffling off alongside Anya to return the paint supplies back to the storage room._

_Giles turned back to Buffy and tilted his head in concern, "You still haven't spoken to Angel since the—"_

_Buffy shook her head, "No. I called him the night I got it but then we got into a fight about….well, about everything really."_

"_I am sorry we couldn't figure it out," Giles said softly._

_Buffy shrugged, "S'okay. I mean, it's not like we could do anything anyway, right?"_

"_No, I suppose not."_

"_Taurus," Andrew said suddenly, reading from the open book that Xander had pulled for a picture reference. "Taurus is—."_

"_Taurus is the Bull," Anya chirped as she reentered with Xander._

"_Yes An, we established that with my 'bull drawing' comment," Xander reminded._

"_I'm afraid I never got far into astrology," Giles chimed in as he wandered over to Andrew to regard the image as well. "Did you uh, did you find this in the library?"_

"_Nope. One of Willow's books," Xander informed._

"_Must be a Goddess thing," Buffy suggested._

"_An omnipotent prerequisite," Xander furthered._

"_I don't know many Tauruses," Andrew sighed._

"_Except for Dawn," Xander reminded him._

"_And Spike," Anya added as everyone else's eyes widened at the mention of his name._

_Xander, ever quick to notice tension laughed nervously and looked to Buffy, "Yeah, he was…he was a Taurus right?"_

"_Yeah," Buffy said softly, "Yeah he was." She lowered her head at the last word. Speaking about him in past tense was difficult. Speaking about him at all was difficult._

"_Yes, well, I'm sorry that your experiment didn't work, Xander," Giles spoke up quickly, ending the silence that threatened. "But we still have a few more days."_

"_And Buffy did suggest those plastic stick-on stars," Anya added._

"_And we could still get one of the girls to draw Dawn's symbol," Andrew supplied._

_Xander nodded absently as the group slowly started to wander out of the studio and toward the apartments. Giles glanced over his shoulder to give Buffy a knowing look._

_She silently thanked him for diffusing the awkward moment and smiled as she watched the foursome exit. _

_Once alone, she crossed over to the table where the open book still remained and sat in the chair before it, staring at the ridiculous illustration. Reaching into her pocket, she slowly pulled out the useless charm, tracing the edges with her fingers absently._

"_The champion," she muttered, "Greater than a human, possessed with a soul…" she continued to whisper slowly, bitterly recalling the instructions required of the amulet's wearer. Buffy held the amulet in her palm as she mindlessly regarded the open page once more. _

_Buffy's eyes became misty as she read the traits associated with the sign. Yes, they were true of Dawn but, certain ones called out to her as indelibly Spike-like._

_Stubborn, __however prefer thinking of themselves as patient, sensible and firm_

_Slow to __anger__, but can become furiously mad_

_Sensual__, greatly enjoys food_

_Overindulgent__, good sense of humor, very strong_

_Loving, __romantic__ and affectionate_

_Loyal, f__aithful_

"_Spike," Buffy whispered as her tears began to fall, coating her hand, the amulet and the pages beneath her. "I wish you were here."_

"_Very well, Xander. But you must return it to normal once the festivi—Buffy?"_

"_Buff, you okay?" _

_Buffy coughed at the sound of Giles and Xander emerging and quickly dropped the amulet and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand._

"_I'm okay," she said brightly, standing up and moving back toward the counter where the party supplies had been temporarily forgotten. "Need to finish sorting."_

_The two men remained still, unconvinced as Buffy spoke again._

"_So, did you figure out a solution to the ceiling thing?"_

_Giles nodded as he crossed to help her gather up the favors while Xander grabbed a set of car keys from behind the counter and shook them victoriously._

"_A whole world of 'No' to the sketchy sketch," Xander quipped. "Giles said I could paint it in regular paint if I promised to paint it back."_

"_You want to say the word 'paint' one more time?" Buffy snickered._

"_Paint," Xander spat._

_Giles sighed, "But perhaps your uh…plastic neon star idea would still create the ambience Dawn was after?"_

"_Yeah, whaddya say Buff? You wanna make the trip with me to pick some up while I'm buying…" he struggled to find a synonym, "An opaque liquid used to color walls?"_

_Buffy looked at Giles, both holding onto piles of party favors before the older man smiled._

"_I can situate these on my own," Giles offered._

_Buffy returned the smile and carefully supplied Giles with her armful before grabbing her coat and heading after Xander. _

_Giles snickered as he cautiously made his way across the room, arms loaded with party favors before turning off the light switch and heading back up the stairs, unaware of the faint glow coming from the ceiling, aiming its ray directly at the amulet below._

_**Four Months Ago**_

_**A Day Later**_

"_Watch out for falling drips," Xander said._

"_This is gonna look so cool!" Dawn squealed as she craned her neck upward to watch Xander trace over his previous paint job._

"_Yeah, sorry it's not exactly what you wanted," Xander offered as he ran the brush along the ceiling._

"_That's okay," Dawn assured him._

"_Yeah, Buffy bought enough of these glow in the dark stars to light up all of Ohio," Willow chimed in, unwrapping another set of the plastic decorations and handing them off to Kennedy._

"_Dawn, where do you--?" Kennedy started as Dawn jumped to her feet to help._

"_I guess maybe coming down the side here?" Dawn supplied, grabbing the stars from the other girl as they moved toward the wall._

"_Just be careful if you stick them on the mirrors," Willow explained, "Giles will have a fit if there's gooey plastic star stuff left over."_

"_Dawn, you don't have to help me," Kennedy told the girl as she pressed another star onto the concrete. "I mean, this is for you."_

"_I like being useful," Dawn assured her._

"_You're gonna have to scram eventually," Faith said suddenly, emerging from the apartment stairs with Robin and some of the other girls by her side._

_  
Dawn rolled her eyes as she handed the stars off to Kennedy. "I get it, I get it."_

"_Where are you guys off to?" Willow asked Faith as her group headed for the door._

"_Training. What with the place closed down for little D's birthday we have to find another place to work out."_

"_Oh yeah," Willow nodded._

"_You wanna come?" Faith offered Dawn. The young girl shook her head and crossed back to the stairs._

"_I'll be in my room," Dawn sighed as Faith shrugged and exited the building._

"_Buffy's back," Kennedy acknowledged as Willow turned to see Faith and Buffy exchange greetings before the petite blonde entered._

"_Hey guys," Buffy mumbled, shrugging off her jacket._

"_Any luck?" Willow ventured._

"_Nothing," Buffy spat as she crossed the room toward the table below Xander's work space. "I looked everywhere."_

"_You'll find it, I'm sure you will," Willow offered._

"_What's the haps?" Kennedy asked, still working on arranging the stars._

"_Buffy thinks she lost the amulet," Willow explained uneasily._

"_Oh," Kennedy said with a grimace._

"_I don't think I lost it, Wil," Buffy groaned. "I _know_ I did."_

"_Where'd you see it last?" Xander asked from his perch. The black overcoat was almost complete._

"_Right here, actually," Buffy said, knitting her brow in concentration as she stared at the table._

"_So, it's obviously in the building, right?" Xander furthered, resuming his painting._

"_I was sitting here, last night," Buffy said, recalling. "It was in my hand…"_

"_When Giles and I walked in on you," Xander supplied._

"_Then I left with you," Buffy pointed to him distractedly, still staring ahead to remember her steps._

"_And Giles was left? Maybe Giles picked it up?" Kennedy suggested._

"_Giles would have just given it back to Buffy," Willow reasoned with her girlfriend before turning back to Buffy. "Was it still here when you came back?" _

_Buffy sighed, "I didn't think to look, actually."_

"_How weird," Willow mumbled. "It disappeared as mysteriously as it appeared. Or well, reappeared."_

"_You don't think it's…"Buffy raised her head to look at her friend. "You know, something….hellmouthy, do you?"_

_Willow shrugged, "I don't know. I could do a scan if you want? It's real easy. Ya know, just to detect stuff?"_

"_Okay," Buffy agreed._

_Willow beamed as she came from behind the counter and headed for the storage room. "I just need to get a couple of supplies. It'll only take a—"_

_Buffy scowled as Willow's voice cut off. Kennedy looked up for a second as Xander briefly stopped cleaning up._

_Buffy appeared at Willow's side only to freeze in her spot, her eyes wide in disbelief. _

_There, amidst the randomly assorted supplies, lay the unconscious body of Spike._

_**Moments Later**_

"_Oh my God," Buffy said, wanting to rush toward the leather clad figure. But something was rendering her motionless._

"_Oh my Goddess," Willow echoed her own sentiment._

"_What is it?" Kennedy and Xander's voices breaking the silence as they rushed toward them._

"_Holy shit," Kennedy balked._

"_Ditto," Xander muttered._

"_What do….is he….what….how did….Willow?" Buffy choked out, still unable to move._

"_How did you not scream at that?" Xander wondered absently as Willow found the nerve to kneel down and approach the body slowly._

"_Is he dead?" Kennedy breathed._

"_I think you mean, 'Isn't he?'," Xander cringed, stepping away frantically and beginning to pace._

"_Vampires don't breath," Willow said more to herself, "There's no way of knowing."_

"_What the hell is he doing here?" Xander called out from across the room._

"_He's not real," Buffy swore, shaking her head. Her eyes still wide and fixed on his still body. "He's not real. It can't be real. It can't really be him."_

_Willow narrowed her gaze at Spike's form but dared not to touch him to confirm Buffy's ramblings. Then, something else caught her eye. Just above him, two small aluminum cans sat on a shelf; a yellowy substance smeared around the rim._

_Willow reached for one of the cans and spun back to face the group. "Who used this?" she demanded._

_Kennedy and Xander looked up at her curiously. Buffy remained in the doorway, still staring amazedly at the lifeless figure._

"_Used what, baby?" Kennedy asked._

"_This?" Willow jutted the can forward as Xander started to approach. _

"_That's the stupid glow in the dark paint that I tried," Xander said with a sigh. _

"_No it isn't!" Willow seethed._

_Xander gave her an incredulous stare, "Yes. It is."_

"_No, Xander! This isn't paint! It's a summoning solution!"_

"_What?" Kennedy and Xander said in unison._

"_A what?" Xander repeated as Willow stared him down._

"_It's meant for resurrection rituals," Willow further whined as she carefully opened the lid to peer inside._

"_No wonder it didn't glow in the dark," Xander muttered._

"_You mean Xander resurrected Spike?" Kennedy grimaced._

"_I most certainly did not!" Xander shuddered._

"_Xander, I need to know everything you did with this," Willow demanded, shutting the lid once again and crossing to the table._

_Xander followed, eyeing the can mercilessly, "I copied the drawing in that book with the unglowy summoning paint stuff."_

_Willow reached for the book as she referenced the completed drawing above her head. _

"_Did you complete the drawing with the summoning solution?"_

_Xander scratched his head, "Uh, yeah. I drew the entire thing with that stuff before I tried it out in the dark."_

_Willow nodded then shook her head as she cross-referenced the summoning solution properties she could remember in her head. "That still doesn't explain how this happened," she said to herself._

"_Is this why the amulet's missing?" Kennedy ventured as Willow stopped suddenly._

"_Yes! Oh my Goddess, yes! The amulet! Buffy said the amulet was on the table, right? Right below the completed drawing!"_

"_So?" Xander started as Willow excitedly flipped through the pages of the book._

"_But oh," Willow sighed, her joy suddenly faltering as she read further. _

"_What? What is 'but oh'?" Xander asked._

"_Well, the alignment of the constellation and the amulet only work if it's been conjured. And then triggered."_

"_Say what?" Xander glared._

"_So, how then? How did he get here?" Kennedy asked._

"_I think I did it," Buffy said suddenly._

_The trio turned to see Buffy's teary face staring back at them. _

"_See?" Xander said smugly to Kennedy, "Told you I didn't resurrect Spike."_

_**Four Months Ago**_

_**A Few Hours Later**_

"_Well, it's certainly not unheard of," Giles commented quietly as he and Willow stood back, assessing the lifeless Spike they'd moved onto the matted floor of the studio._

"_Resurrecting a living undead guy back from the dead?" Xander quipped._

_Giles turned sharply to the young man, "It's certainly not unheard of that you were the one to drudge up this mess."_

_Xander started to respond but quickly snapped his mouth shut and skulked away from the older man._

"_Well at least we know he's real. I mean, really here," Andrew said timidly, casting a hopeful glance at the group._

"_How's Buffy?" Dawn asked._

"_She's…" Giles began as Willow cut in._

"_She's still processing," the redhead explained. "It's her first resurrection. Err…well, I mean…it's the first time she's ever resurrected anyone."_

"_Yes, I don't believe anyone can fully prepare themselves for something like this," Giles concluded._

"_Where is she now?" Faith chimed in, still standing near a far corner of the room. Though not new to happenings of this nature, this was still an uneasy situation for the reformed slayer. _

"_Walking, I believe…err, outside, somewhere," Giles stuttered, giving Faith a polite nod as he concentrated once again on the lifeless vamp before him._

_Faith lifted her chin proudly and slipped out the door._

"_If he's back why isn't he, ya know, moving?" Kennedy asked._

_Willow shrugged as she scanned the book in her hand, "That's what I'm trying to figure out."_

"_Yo, B! Where are you, girly?" Faith called out as she scanned the street, growing annoyed by the second. She hated this; this concerned feeling. But she couldn't help it. Faith was still wilder than her blonde counterpart but her rehabilitation had set her straight. She was a good guy now, to the end. And though Buffy was arguably the strongest living slayer out there, Faith still worried about the girl wandering the streets of a burgeoning Hellmouth alone at night. _

"_Spike is looking for you! He asked where you were!" Faith yelled into the air as deliberate footsteps finally made noise._

"_Thanks for checking in," Buffy said snidely; her arms crossed at her chest._

_Faith smirked and spun around to face her, "Five by five, chica?"_

"_Five by five," Buffy muttered as she finally fell into step with Faith. "Is he…"_

"_Nothing," Faith finished her thought. "Wil's still working on that part."_

_Buffy nodded but said nothing as they continued walking back toward their building._

"_You worried?" Faith asked, staring straight ahead._

"_What if I did what happened to me? I mean, what if Spike was in heaven and I accidentally ripped him out?"_

_Faith snickered, "I doubt Spike was in heaven, B."_

_Buffy released a low, abrupt chuckle, "Good point. I didn't mean to—"_

"_No one's mad about this," Faith cut in again. "Except maybe Xander."_

_Again Buffy emitted a small laugh, "Of course he used a magic potion and not real paint."_

"_Only Xander."_

_Giles and Willow were the only ones left in the studio when Faith and Buffy returned, having sent everyone else back to their rooms. Willow had assessed the ritual as fixed but incomplete. _

"_As in, permanent but unfinished," she explained._

"_I still don't understand," Giles hummed as he turned to see the two Slayers enter the room._

"_Look who I found," Faith called out._

_Buffy meant to greet Giles and Willow but stopped short when she saw Spike's body splayed out on the studio floor._

"_Buffy," Giles started._

"_Do we…" she began, fighting the urge to cry all over again, "Do we know what's wrong?"_

"_Willow thinks she does," Giles spat as he reached for his glasses._

_The young woman rolled her eyes and turned to smile at her friend, "I'm sorry I can't do anything but practical magic here, having….well, you know….but resurrection isn't really my forte anymore."_

_Buffy returned Willow's apology with a sad smile, "It's okay, Wil. Just, tell me what's wrong."_

"_Well, from what I've gathered, your tears acted as the trigger to enact the spell. And now that Xander painted over the summoning solution, it's sealed the magic."_

"_I don't unders—"_

"_But since the ritual called for pure rock salt, your tears kind of, messed it up."_

"_Oh," said Buffy quietly as she bowed her head._

"_But, but, not to worry!" Willow quickly added, "You just have to say whatever you said before and this time use pure rock salt."_

"_Pure rock salt?" Faith chimed in. "Where the hell are we supposed to—"_

"_Here," Giles cut in, handing Willow a common salt shaker._

_Faith glared at the exchange, "Salt? As in, _salt?_ That's the magical, mystery ingredient?"_

"_It would…um, appear that way, yes," Giles confirmed soberly._

"_Buffy, do you think you can remember everything you said at the table?" Willow asked her gently._

_Buffy nodded, though she was skeptical. She was scared at what might happen. What if she'd already mucked it up and it didn't work? What if it did?_

"_Just take a seat right here," Willow instructed, "And here's the salt. And now, just repeat what you said last night."_

"_Umm," Buffy started, staring at the body nervously, "When do I….where…with the salt?"_

"_Anywhere on him is fine," Willow explained, "After you say the words."_

_Buffy nodded, still frozen as she regarded his face. She looked up at the three before swallowing deliberately. "Could….could I be alone?"_

_Faith shrugged and started for the stairs as Willow nodded. Giles, however, remained still. "Buffy, I'm not certain—"_

"_Please?" She pleaded._

_Giles sighed and nodded, "Very well, then."_

_Faith and Willow waited by the steps and ushered the older man ahead of her. _

"_You know salt is used to clean wounds and preserve---" Willow's voice was cut off as the door shut behind them._

_Buffy waited a moment longer before she looked back down at Spike. "You better wake up or so help me…"she muttered._

_Inhaling slowly and then exhaling, Buffy closed her eyes and poured a handful of salt into her palm. She begged her mind to remember what she'd said._

_She jutted her hand forward to release the salt, "Spike, I wish you were alive."_

_She snapped her eyes shut once more as she let the grainy substance slip through her hand. Silence. Had she had her eyes open, she would have seen the salt fall. Had she been watching, she would have seen the grains illuminate as they touch his skin. She would have seen them penetrate his flesh and dissolve as his entire body became effervescent before extinguishing back to the pale color of before. Had she been looking, she would have seen his split second reflection in the mirror._

_**Present Time**_

"So, how did sparring with Rupes go?" Spike asked with a chuckle as he leaned back in the chair, setting the now emptied mug of blood onto the table.

"That's not why you came down here," Buffy said flatly.

"Alright, you got me," he feigned resignation, "I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay," Buffy shrugged as she pulled up another chair, "Talk."

"It's about us—me," Spike corrected quickly.

Buffy raised an eyebrow and took a swig of her soda. "Okay," she started slowly, "What about…._you?"_

"I'm…." He began awkwardly, tilting his head slightly, "Are we…"

"I thought you said this was about you?" Buffy looked at him sternly.

"I lied," he said with a shrug.

Buffy set her soda can roughly on the table and rose once more toward the mats and began stretching.

His eyes followed her as he watched her tug on her limbs and twist her body around.

"Are we ever gonna talk about it?"

"About what, Spike?"

Spike rolled his eyes and crossed over to her, standing on the edge of the matted floor, "Why I'm even here again?"

"I thought we already did, months ago."

"We talked about _how_ I'm even here again, love. Not _why_."

Buffy sighed and sat up to face him, "You're one of our strongest fighters."

Spike lowered himself into a squat and kept his gaze on the slayer, "Not with every Jane Doe as a Chosen one."

Buffy rolled her eyes and spun around to face the mirror, glad that she couldn't read his expression through the glass. "You're still strong."

Spike chuckled as he watched her trying to avoid him. His gaze lingered on her before traveling toward the mirror, seeing nothing but her and the room's reflection. "So then, you needed me?"

"Sure," she shrugged innocently, "We felt like we still needed you."

"We?" Spike baited, "Or _you_?"

"Spike," Buffy warned, "We've come way too far to start in on this again."

Spike smirked and stood back up to full height, "I see why you're frettin' now."

Buffy groaned and looked up, "Enlighten me?"

"You're all weird about the confession you made before I went all Little Miss Sunshine, aren't you? Couldn't deal with the guilt and brought me back to tease me again. Thanks for that pet but—"

"It was an accident," Buffy cut in.

Spike nodded, unfazed by the woman's interruption, "I already thanked you for saying it even if you—"

"No," Buffy interjected again, this time standing up to face him, "I mean, the spell. It was an accident. We….I….didn't mean to bring you back."

Spike's cheeky expression hardened; his eyes narrowing in contemplation. He said nothing for the longest time, steering his resolve to appear unaffected by Buffy's confession.

"Spike, I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Left that bit out before, didn't you?" He asked bitingly.

"We're still glad—"

"Oh sod your 'glad', Slayer. Point is, I'm back now, ain't I? Doesn't matter a lick how or why."

He sniffled sharply and sucked his teeth before spinning on his heels and headed for the door.

Buffy blinked back her surprise as she watched the tails of his leather duster flutter after him.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	2. Sleeping Arrangements

_**Chapter Two  
**__**Sleeping Arrangements**_

On each of the two floors of apartments stood a common area; not necessarily located in the center of each floor but a large expanse of space where most of the gang, new and old, convened during their free time.

It was on the highest floor's common area that Spike had chosen to sleep in since his return. It wasn't the most comfortable, nor did it garner him his much needed privacy, but it was a place to rest his head. And since the majority of the group were away during the hours of which he slept, scheduling alone time had been fairly easy.

"Spike," Xander hissed as he leaned against the doorjamb.

The vampire stirred but did not awaken. Xander moved further into the room and flicked the slumbering creature's ear with his finger. "Spike! Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey."

"Dancing pandas!" Spike yelled as he woke, startled. Xander widened his eyes in curious reproach as the vamp dazedly sat up and looked around.

"What the bleeding—" Spike started before recognizing Xander. "Oh, it's you."

Xander smirked and motioned toward the stairs, "Meeting downstairs, Sleeping Ugly."

"What the hell time is it?"

"A quarter past I don't care, Spike," Xander sighed, heading for the stairwell.

"You're a lovely bit to wake up to," Spike grumbled as he slowly stood and stretched, squinting as he noticed the blips of sunlight peaking through the closed blinds.

"Vamps sleep during the day, ya know?" Spike called after the man as he slid his boots on. The one deeply unfortunate ritual Spike had been missing from sleeping in such a public place; sleeping in the nude. Even with a full day's rest it was still a bitter reminder of his rank amongst the group every time he awoke with his clothing on.

"Well humans don't," Xander countered, holding the door as Spike begrudgingly made his way to the stairs, sizing the human up and down contemptuously.

"Like hell they don't," Spike yawned as they began their descent toward the studio.

***

Though there were less than twenty people in the large room, the din from the chatty teenaged slayers and the present Scoobies echoed off the mirrored walls and sent Buffy into a tailspin. She and Anya had just finished tacking the black material to the front door when Xander and Spike arrived.

"One sleepy creature of the night, coming up!" Xander jabbed as he and the vamp entered the space.

Spike groaned inwardly at the racket being made by everyone in place. He was on slayer overload as he scanned the room; noticing Buffy coming down from her perch of a step ladder. A small smile crept onto his face as he noticed the thick fabric covering the glass as Buffy stepped back to examine her handy work.

"I'll think that'll stay put, right?" The blonde asked Anya anxiously.

The ex-demon nodded, "There's enough duct tape on these puppies to gag Xander twenty times!"

Buffy shot Anya a cross-eyed look. "You know, in a sexy bondage sort of way," the woman clarified.

Buffy rolled her eyes and spun around to face the group. Attempting to grab Willow's attention across the room, Buffy caught Spike's stare and gave him an acknowledging nod.

Spike did the same before his eyes ventured upwards, silently indicating the black-out fabric. Buffy shrugged and stared back at him expectantly. He gave her a smile and another nod, thanking her without words. Their silent exchange amidst the noise concluded as Buffy turned back around to retrieve the stepstool.

"I got that, Buff," Xander offered; sliding up beside her to relieve the contraption from her grasp. She smiled and squeezed his arm before yelling back over the crowd.

"Willow?" She cried out hopefully.

"Almost finished," Willow called back, still facing the mirror.

"What's this now?" Spike asked the nearest person as he hopped up on the counter behind the group of girls piled on the floor. Andrew, leaning his back into the counter was the closest.

"Willow's creating a grid on the mirror for a simulated training session."

Spike pursed his lips in consideration as he kept his gaze focused on the witch-cum-goddess. He watched thoughtfully as she traced her fingers in an intricate pattern along the reflective surface, though no trail was visible. This training session should be interesting. He smiled to himself as he considered how far the redheaded young woman had come. The gawky, shy waif that once was, was now a vibrant and powerful magician.

He hadn't been there to see Willow's ascension, but he'd been told. Many times. The Powers That Be had summoned the girl to their heavenly dimension; having witnessed her enlightenment upon casting the Chosen Spell. The experience, from what Spike had been told, was much like D'Hoffryn's offer to make her a vengeance demon.

Willow turned The Powers down. With her enlightenment came the all the perks of Godliness; transference, telepathy, precognition, transmogrification and of course, immortality, if she accepted.

But the sentimental redhead declined. Though her energy and might would be on the side of good, she had seen what unlimited power could do; and had worked way too hard to not abuse it. And the idea of immortality was surprisingly the scariest prospect for the young woman. The Powers were disappointed, but accepted her decision. As a sign of good faith, The Powers bestowed to her the Gem of Iamblichus; the first of the 'psychic gods'. Though the charm's title would suggest precognition, it merely allowed the wearer the ability to cross dimensions without conjuring or consequence. It also gained the owner other-worldly information that would otherwise be impossible to retrieve or ascertain. Willow had used the latter trait sparingly, still committed to her roots as a mere Wicca amongst the Scooby Gang.

"Okay, finished!" Willow yelled happily.

Spike was snapped out of his recollection at the sound of Buffy's commanding voice.

"Alright people! Listen up and give Willow your full attention!"

Willow blushed as the room fell silent and numerous sets of eyes gazed at her expectantly.

"Okay," She squeaked, "Hey everybody! Umm, okay…so, after last month's patrolling fiasco with the Sessag Demon, we thought of a pretty nifty training method to help aide future slayage."

"Andrew?" Buffy directed, crossing to the young man. Andrew nodded and reached behind him, retrieving a tall stack of papers.

"This is a list of every elemental demon," Andrew began proudly, handing off the first packet to Spike who rolled his eyes as he snatched the pages from the man's hands.

"As we go through the list, please refer to the corresponding image on the mirror. Willow, if you please?" Andrew continued, handing off more papers to each person.

Willow nodded and twirled her finger toward the glass as a series of illuminated dots appeared on the shiny surface in the form of a square.

Gasps and appreciative murmurs were heard as the 'class' watched in awe.

"Check it out," Xander balked, "Wil made a living Lite Brite!"

"Awesome job, Willow," Buffy whispered as Willow meandered around the room, directing the dots in a fiery dance with every flick of her wrist.

"This is just the entertainment portion," Willow giggled in return as she moved back toward the mirror.

Buffy emitted a low chuckle before casting a quick glance at the man beside her.

Spike returned the Slayer's gaze for a brief moment before turning back to watch the glowing specks.

"Pretty little dots Red's manifested," Spike breathed, still watching the mirror.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" She ventured, placing a hand on his thigh to get his attention.

Spike turned and stared at her hand's placement before meeting her face on. Saying nothing, he hopped down from the counter and let her lead them into the storage room toward the back of the studio, shutting the door behind him.

Buffy took an immediate interest in the metal shelf along the back wall as Spike casually leaned against the door, his arms locked across his chest as he watched and waited.

"You wanted to talk, pet?"

Buffy stopped and looked up at him, still safely distanced in the corner of the narrow room. "I wanted to apologize for what I said the other day….about bringing you back and it being an accident…I didn't mean—"

"It was the truth, wasn't it?" Spike interjected, narrowing his gaze.

Buffy sighed and nodded, "But I didn't mean—"

"Then can't change anything, can you?" He quipped as his lips fell into a cheeky but hardened pout.

"Look, I just…I need you for one of the lessons today and I just want you to be okay with it."

Spike knitted his brow and tilted his head slightly to regard her. Oh, the dance they seemed doomed to ride out. Loaded words like 'need' and 'want'; demanding a better context.

"'Course," Spike shrugged, "Why wouldn't I help?"

"You've just, you've been back for a couple of months now but you're not active like you were before."

"Still getting used to being back, s'pose," Spike said casually. "Know a bit about that, right, love?" He shot her a knowing look.

Buffy bit her lip and nodded slowly, running a hand through her hair, "I just want to make sure you still _want _to be here. If being alive…err, well…un-alive again makes you want to find something new then—"

"Buffy," Spike cut in, standing to full height and slowly approaching her.

"I don't want you to think I'm forcing you to sta—"

She bumped into the metal shelf behind her as he drew closer. He hadn't pushed her into it, she backed up on reflex. He hadn't even touched her but he was hovering; ghosting his hand over her hair and down her cheek but never making contact.

"I know I missed my chance, love," he whispered as he admired her, "If I ever even _had_ a chance but, my feelings haven't changed. Even death couldn't change the way I feel about you…"

Buffy studied him; how he was looking at her but not _at her_. His piercing azure eyes merely memorizing her image, or perhaps remembering…

"Spike," she breathed.

***

Andrew was now fielding questions about his research as Willow slowly guided the dots back into their starting position.

"What are elemental demons?" One girl asked.

"Like the Sessag, dummy," another girl answered.

"Man did that guy smell funky," another Slayer quipped.

"Yeah well, he certainly shared the wealth," Robin piped in, receiving a spattering of giggles.

Andrew's bug eyes were dashing from left to right; assessing whose comment to address first. "Elemental demons are ones possessed with—"

"I can't believe you guys actually passed out on patrol!" one of the newest charges, Carrie, squawked.

"Hey girly, it was an accident!" Kennedy cut in.

"It's not like we meant to!" Another girl countered.

"Yeah, it was the demon's power after all," Dawn assured.

"You weren't there, how would you know?" Violet spat.

"Let it go, newbies! Can we get back to the lesson?" Faith groaned.

"Cause that's all you guys talked about when you got back!" snapped yet another girl.

"Andrew summoned it," Amanda, one of the older Slayerettes reminded the girls.

"Should he still be allowed to do that?" Frankie, a newer Slayer, wondered.

"Hey, I'm just doing my job!" Andrew interjected, throwing himself into the mix of chatter.

Xander stared at the chaos as Anya looked on amusedly. Willow glanced toward Kennedy, who was too engaged in an argument with another Slayerette. Giles tossed his stapled papers over his shoulder in defeat while Robin and Faith attempted to assuage their favorite charge, Talia, over something another girl had said; and Andrew now in a tug-of-war over a quickly crinkling packet of papers.

"Buffy?" Willow cried in panic, ducking as the charges, Andrew, Robin and Faith all went ballistic; tossing papers and notebooks, pencils and fists.

"Buffy?" Willow cried out again.

***

"Spike," Buffy whispered again; his gaze now making her uncomfortable. "I hear Willow."

Spike snapped out of his daze and perked his ears; the distinct sounds of an unruly scuffle now ever present on the other side of the door.

"Right," he cleared his throat and backed away as she moved past him toward the door.

Buffy peeked her head out from the storage room to see the riot before her and the Scooby Gang's apathetic reaction to it all. She ducked back into the room and spun back to face him.

"You want to start your lesson a little early?" She sent him a smirk.

His lips curled into a devilish smile before unleashing his game face.

"Can not!"

"Can too!"

"Whatever!"

"Cry baby!"

"Spoiled brat!"

"Rich bitch!"

Faith and Robin had managed to detangle themselves from the fray and were now in the corner watching in dismay as the uncontrollable cluster of super-strength mini slayers wreaked havoc around the mats.

"I'm sorry," Andrew whimpered, practically in tears, "I just wanted to teach them about elemental demons!"

With Giles merely leaning against it, Xander, Anya and Willow were crouched behind the counter, braving glances over the top every so often to assess the damage.

"God, how I wish I could enact vengeance for myself!" Anya huffed in perverse interest as she watched the fight.

"God, how I'm glad you can't," Xander mocked bitterly as he tugged Anya down in the nick of time as another notebook whizzed past their heads.

"Willow, isn't there something…some spell or something you could do to stop this?" Giles moaned, whipping off his spectacles for their inevitable wipe down.

Willow looked at him incredulously, "You want me to abuse my power like that?"

"Yeah, Mister Watcher!" Anya chimed in for the fun of it, "You're the real adult here. You put a stop to this!"

Giles slammed his glasses back onto his face and shoved his handkerchief aggressively back into his pocket, "Oh for God's sake, where is Buffy?"

A loud metallic thud sounded accompanied by a low growl as Spike leapt out of the back room, followed casually by Buffy.

On instinct, the Slayerettes ceased their fighting and turned to acknowledge the demon presence that had suddenly entered their domain.

"How many vamps does it take to shut up a room full of slayers?" Xander jabbed playfully, as he, Anya and Willow stood to regard the sight.

Giles straightened up in concern for the briefest of moments before Buffy appeared at Spike's side, calm and collected.

Faith, Robin and Andrew now stood upright as well, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Elemental Demons," Buffy began; appearing from behind Spike's billowing duster. "Affect the natural surrounding elements. Andrew?"

"Umm," Andrew cleared his throat as he took a tentative step onto the mats. "They can also undermine or affect any of the five human senses."

The charge who had asked the question earlier, blushed as another girl attempted to shove her for her ignorance. At the sight of the push, Spike growled again and took a step toward the girls, causing an involuntary gasp.

Buffy held her hand up to cease Andrew from continuing. "The five senses," Buffy declared, "Carrie, name one."

The short-haired blonde girl look to her commanding Slayer and blinked back her nervousness, "Sight."

Buffy nodded and turned to another girl, "Frankie?"

"Taste."

"Talia?"

"Touch."

"Amanda?"

"Hearing."

"Violet?"

"Smell."

"Smell," Buffy repeated, "Like the sausage demon, right?"

"Sessag demon," Andrew corrected meekly as Spike suppressed a grin.

Buffy rolled her eyes but continued in stride, "And how did this…_demon_, affect the Slayer's sense of smell?"

Andrew raised his hand as Buffy threw him a look. Giggles and snickers were heard all around as Andrew blushed and proceeded to answer.

"He created an olfactory sensation so pungent that the Slayer could not concentrate on her surroundings."

Buffy nodded before turning back to face Spike, "I think we have their attention now."

Spike smirked and shook off his vamp face before settling back into a relaxed stance.

Buffy shot him a quick smile before addressing the girls again.

"Now, let's get back to that first sense; sight," she commanded as she spun around and began to circle the leather clad vampire.

Spike kept his eyes on the Slayer as she walked slowly around him, sizing him up. She locked eyes with him after coming back around and without breaking his stare said, "Girls, line up."

***

The sun was setting as the large group had finally whittled down to a few left in the studio. Buffy's lesson plan using Spike had gone swimmingly. The charges had been forced to face the mirror at all times as Spike attack them from behind, eliminating the sense of sight while forcing them to utilize their sense of hearing.

Everyone had found the training session enjoyable, no more so than the straggling newbies that had seemingly grown a fondness for the bleached blond vamp; who, as it stood, was relishing the attention.

"So, do you like, always wear this jacket?" Violet asked shyly, trying to find her way into the conversation. Buffy rolled her eyes as she listened in on the gushing teenagers as they draped themselves around the man adoringly.

"Well, yeah," Spike said dryly as he eyed Violet in genuine concern that she might be daft.

"Like, _always_? Even when you sleep?" Frankie chimed in, absently tracing her finger along the sleeve of the duster in question.

"Oh no, I sleep in the buff," He insisted seriously to the girl, fully aware of the pun he'd just made. Buffy stifled a laugh, which turned into a more obvious cough, garnering her several puzzled looks from the girls as she dutifully resumed her clean up duties around the studio.

"In the what?" Carrie blinked innocently.

"Naked, you spazz," Frankie chided the girl.

"You sleep naked?" Violet stared back at the vamp, wide-eyed but intrigued.

Spike shrugged, leaning back and resting his elbows on the counter top.

"You sleep in the lounge, I've never seen you naked," Frankie challenged with an impish grin.

Spike looked directly at her and smirked, "We can change that, pet."

"Okay, here endeth the lesson," Buffy said loudly, clapping her hands together as she quickly ushered the girls off toward their rooms.

Spike snickered as Frankie winked good bye and the others waved dejectedly as the older Slayer continued to push them further away.

"Nice batch of girls you got there," he mused as Buffy shut the door, still leaning back on his elbows. "Noisy as hell, too giggly for my taste, some duller than a box of—"

"And way too young," she reprimanded, crossing back over to behind the counter.

"Well yeah, chronologically," he chuckled, glancing absently to the side as he watched Buffy clean up the shelves beneath him.

"Stop prowling," she warned, standing back to face him directly.

"No harm in chatting up the birds," he reasoned, sitting straight up and continuing to watch her putter around him.

"No," she said sharply, poking his chest with her index finger.

Spike sighed and grabbed the offending finger, leaning in dangerously close, "Oh don't be jealous. You know you're the only Slayer for me," he purred.

"Spike," she reminded him, gently prying her captive digit from his grasp.

Spike cleared his throat and straightened himself back up. "Right, sorry. No more declarations."

"You were really great with them today," Buffy gave him a small smile as she moved to stow away some more stakes in the weapon's locker.

"All in a day's work, love," Spike shrugged.

"I mean it. I think they finally took it seriously that the hellmouth here is just as dangerous as Sunnydale's was."

"Yeah, after they stopped pulling each other's hair and pillow fighting with poor mini-me's list o' demons…" he snickered, mindlessly picking off a piece of lint from his shirt.

Buffy shut the locker door and spun around; her face red with chagrin, "Right. _After _the fight. I can not believe that even happened in the first place!"

"Oh, they're still green, is all. They may _technically_ be slayers now but they're not _real_ Slayers yet," he assured her, hopping off the counter as she crossed the room to gather up the remaining leftover supplies.

"But I expected more from the older girls," she continued on her train of thought as Spike knelt beside her to help her clean up.

"They're better off than most. Any slayer who doesn't outright seek your help doesn't stand a chance."

"That's not true," she blushed, averting his gaze as she retraced her path back to the locker, Spike following close behind.

"Sure it is. Buffy, do you even—" He began to say, her back facing him before he sighed audibly.

"What?" She asked; suddenly worried as she spun around to face him.

"Forget it," he said with a grimace; sucking at his teeth as he handed off the last of the weapons in his hands.

"No, Spike, what? You were making with the compliments. It's good for the ego," she pouted.

"Yeah but I'm running dangerously close to declarations again," he flashed a guilty smile and shrugged.

"Oh," she nodded, biting her lip as she slumped down into the nearest chair.

Spike watched her slink into the seat for a moment without a word before the awkwardness started to bug him.

"Yeah, anyway they're gonna be great," he cleared his throat loudly, "Well, seeing as I didn't actually get to sleep when I'm supposed to, I guess I'm off to bed now. Sleeping at bloody night time like a real boy," he released a self deprecating laugh.

"You still sleeping in the lounge?"

He tilted his head and gave her a curious smile, "Yeah, been sleeping there for months."

"How's that working out for ya?" She laughed preemptively, knowing his answer.

He rolled his eyes at her playful jab but answered truthfully, "Eh, a bit too public for me, if you know what I mean."

She glared at him in mock incredulity, "You didn't seem to mind ten minutes ago when all my charges were making moon eyes at you."

Spike shrugged as he leaned against the mirror across from her, "Well, yeah, flirtin's all that was, pet. But do I really want a swarm of girlies ogling my goodies? No!" he insisted indignantly before Buffy sent him a doubtful smirk.

"Okay well maybe but…gah! I want just to be able to walk around in nothing like I used to!" he practically whined.

She giggled at his melodrama before sobering to say, "I'm sorry you don't have your own space."

The vamp sighed and ran an absent hand over his chest as he stretched, "S'okay, love. I know I kind of crashed your big slumber party and all…."

"You know you can always sleep with me if you ever get tired of sleeping on the couch."

Buffy's eyes went wide as she realized what she'd just said. Spike raised a curious eyebrow as his lips curled into a smile, his tongue sticking out ever-so-slightly.

"Could I now?"

Buffy shot him a stern look, "Not like _that_…" she attempted to recover; failing miserably. "I mean, I have a futon. The room itself isn't even half the size of the entire lounge but at least you could…you know, go about your business…sleeping….naked…"

"The bit's not with you?" Spike asked referring to her sister, Dawn.

"I offered," Buffy gave him a wry smile, "But I think she's a little old now to share a room with her sister. She's with two of the other girls."

"So me and you…all alone in a small space," Spike laughed bitterly before giving her a sad smile, "I think that'd be tempting fate, love."

"No it wouldn't," she insisted, trying to steer the conversation away from anything overtly sexual or sentimental. "Our schedules are different and I mean it's—"

"Not anything you haven't already seen?" Spike supplied, standing straight up.

Buffy too, stood at this, averting his gaze to disguise the furious blush in her cheeks. "Well, true but, no!" she nearly yelped before clearing her throat and calming her nerves.

"I mean," She began again, "_We're_ not…._like that_ _anymore_ so, it's fine. Stay with me. I insist. You shouldn't have to sleep on that tiny little sofa anymore."

"You sure?" He cast a doubtfully, furrowed brow her way.

"Positive," she said as plainly as she could muster. She gave him an exaggerated smile as he continued to remain wary of her demeanor before finally shrugging and conceding.

"Well, I'm gonna go make myself comfortable, then. What number are you?" He asked as he headed for the door.

"503," she called back to him.

"Really?" He asked, stopping suddenly to spin back to face her.

"Yeah, why?" She held her arms around herself protectively, genuinely puzzled by his interest in her apartment number.

Spike held a wistful smile as he spoke, "That's my…._was _my…." He tried to say before realizing how maudlin he must seem to her.

"Christ, I'm such a ponce. Never mind. 503, got it. Thanks, love. I'll umm, cover up before you get back," he said quickly, silently cursing himself for trying to talk.

"Okay," she gave an awkward laugh.

"Night, then," he sighed, casting one final, pitiful smile her way before turning to leave.

"Night, Spike."

_**To Be Continued…**_


	3. Blood Punk Love

_**Chapter Three  
**__**Blood Punk Love**_

"Oww," Talia hissed as Buffy dabbed the antiseptic to the girl's arm,

"Ooh, sorry," Buffy grimaced as she went about putting less pressure on the wound.

"Are you okay?" Amanda asked from behind Buffy's shoulder.

Talia gave a half hearted nod as the rest of the girls milled about the studio, training alongside Robin as Andrew, Willow and Giles sat at the table discussing research.

They'd integrated heavier weapons today during their lesson and Talia had been the unfortunate recipient of a sword's point; courtesy of Amanda.

"It's still bleeding," Talia whined as Buffy continued to prepare the bandages.

"It'll stop, I promise," Buffy assured her as a series of bumbling thuds came from the stairs.

A few heads turned to regard the racket as Spike stumbled through the door, panting for dramatic effect.

"What happened?" He said breathlessly, arms bracing the doorjamb on either side.

Buffy scowled and went back to mending Talia's arm, "Standard training mishap," she said absently.

"I smelled it," He stammered; trying to rationalize his anxiety, "I was peacefully asleep and then I smelled blood. Thought there was trouble."

"Nope, we're none with the trouble," Buffy chirped as she finished wrapping the last of the gauze around Talia's arm. "There, you're all better."

"You can smell it?" Talia turned to Spike with a grimace, "Eww."

Spike straightened to full height and threw the girl a grimace of his own, "Don't say, 'eww', to me. S'rude. And it's what I do! I don't walk around and say, 'Eww, you eat….Doritos'."

Buffy choked on her laugh as Talia remained flummoxed.

"Actually I quite like Doritos," Spike reconsidered under his breath as Buffy shook her head in passing to discard the used medical supplies. Spike followed.

"Vampires have enhanced smell, Talia," Amanda explained. "They can sense all sorts of odors. But I think they go like, super vampy if they can smell blood. Is that right, Mr. Spike?"

Spike turned around abruptly and gave the girl a bashful grin, "Yeah, love. Especially Slayer blood."

"You're not gonna, like, bite me, are you?" Talia asked.

Spike smirked, "No, Bit," he said with a laugh as Buffy walked past once more, catching his attention. "Am feeling a bit peckish now though, Buffy?"

The girls looked at their mentor with confusion as she closed the first-aid kit and turned, smiling at Spike. She understood his question.

"In the fridge, mugs above the microwave," She directed, nodding with her head.

"Thanks, love," he said gratefully. Talia and Amanda sighed with relief as they watched the vamp retrieve the packaged blood bag before filling the mug and popping it into the microwave.

"Amanda, why don't you help Talia back to her room, she should rest for a bit," Buffy instructed. "Training almost over, we'll get you guys when we figure out dinner plans, okay?"

Amanda nodded and slung Talia's good arm over her shoulder as the two disappeared up the stairs. Buffy sighed and dusted herself off, looking around the room at the continuing activities. She made a mental note to discuss with the girls enhanced vampire hearing and smell. She'd forgotten about that aspect when they'd done the mirror lesson the other day. It was still disarming to imagine Slayers who didn't know everything about vampires, but she supposed that she, herself, was even an exception. There were things, _intimate _things, she knew above other Slayers.

Her thoughts lingered as his figure came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'm poppin' outside for a fag."

She quickly snapped out of her haze and gave him a look, noticing the mug not entirely consumed, "You didn't finish?"

Spike shrugged, "But I've had some and eating always makes me want a smoke after."

"Okay."

"That and shagging," he said absently as Buffy's face went inexplicably red. "Be right quick, gonna duck out through the back."

"Do you want me to save the rest of this?" Buffy wondered, taking the half-emptied mug from him.

"I'm not bothered," he said dismissively as he toddled off toward the door. Buffy shrugged as she went to rinse the mug out before a thought entered her mind. Dropping the mug into the sink and sparing a quick glance to see the groups still enthralled in their respective tasks, Buffy jogged to catch up with Spike.

It was newly night, Spike surmised. The last of the sunset was still ducking in the horizon as he leaned against the outside wall of the grey building. However he'd returned, he was grateful for the integrity in which he'd been returned to; his revered Zippo lighter still safely inside his duster's pocket.

He flicked the lid and lit the cigarette before tucking the lighter back into his jeans. In the mad dash from apartment to studio, he'd neglected to wear said duster. He examined the worn out sleeves of his shirt as he exhaled slowly, deciding he'd need to ask Buffy or someone to procure new clothes for him.

"There you are," Buffy's voice sang out as Spike lifted his head.

"No need to get clingy, pet. I said I'd be back in a minute."

Buffy laughed off the playful banter he simply couldn't relinquish. "Are you feeling okay?"

Spike sent her a scowl, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"You didn't finish the blood bag," Buffy reminded him, "And you detected Talia's bleeding about five minutes too late."

Spike shrugged, "I was two soddin' floors upward."

"She had an open wound Spike, and you came in as I was bandaging her up."

"Well, I was sleeping! And…I had to get dressed for your blushing eyes and all that."

Buffy maintained her skeptical look as Spike sighed, annoyed.

"Bloody hell, Slayer, it's not like I've come down with influenza! I'm just not that bothered anymore by the smell of blood."

"Have you been sleeping okay?"

Spike rolled his eyes but answered honestly, "Yes. Bed's a bit lumpy but it's better than that glorified armchair I was sleepin' in."

Buffy snickered, "Good."

He took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it away, bracing one foot against the wall as he continued to lean. Buffy wrapped her arms around herself protectively, the pair standing in companionable silence for the moment.

"We're trying to sort out dinner plans," Buffy started up again. "Did you want to join us?"

Spike pulled out another cigarette and twirled it between his fingers, "Already ate."

"Barely," she snickered.

"Vampires can't get sick, kitten," he assured her.

She huffed, "Fine. Then you're fine and nothing's wrong with you….well, with your _health_ anyway."

Spike chuckled at her jab; they were doomed to always be antagonistic toward each other. It was welcomed now.

"Do _you want me_ to join you for dinner?" He couldn't resist phrasing his question this way.

Buffy caught it and smirked, punching his arm playfully, "Don't get all basset-houndy on me with your eyes, Spike. There's no reason for you not to join us."

Spike lit the new cigarette, "Cheers, then. I'm gonna smoke this."

"Fine. I'll find you when we've decided where we're going," she nodded, making her way toward the door as Spike's hand caught her wrist.

"Oi, going _out _someplace are we, love? You think that's wise? Large group and all…at night… public place?"

"Our lives can't be put on hold for the hellmouth," she declared, "And the girl's have earned a night out. I'll let you know."

Spike released her hand as he watched her disappear behind the door. He turned his focus back to the sky around him, musing on all sorts of thoughts in his head.

***

Spike reemerged from the alley to an emptied studio. Figuring the barrage of humans were now back upstairs, he swiftly ascended and headed toward Buffy's room.

The door to 503 was ajar, and he could hear her scuttling about before he entered the abode.

"Spike?" Buffy called out from the bathroom.

"Yeah, love," he acknowledged distractedly, searching for his duster.

"Willow found us Cleveland's answer to the Bronze," She said as she appeared through the doorway. "They serve food too so…what?" she stopped mid thought to assess the growing smile he gave her.

God he loved this woman; standing in the doorjamb wearing her clubbing outfit holding a ninja sword in one hand and her purse in the other.

"Am I supposed to tell you which one goes better with the outfit?"

Buffy scowled at the amused tone in his voice before realizing the incongruous objects in her hands. Laughter soon became her as she stepped further into the room.

"I was just tidying up the room," she clarified, gesturing to the sword as she crossed in front of him to set the weapon back on its mantle.

"You look nice," he offered, leaning back with his head behind his hands.

She spun around to face him, appraising his outfit in return, "You gonna change?" she asked casually.

Spike straightened himself up once more, "What's wrong with this?"

Buffy shrugged as she headed for the closet, "That shirt's seen better days."

Spike stood up and followed her as she rummaged through the folds and hangers.

"What are you doing, love?"

"I think I still have one of your shirts," she explained, thankful he couldn't see the blush on her cheeks. "Don't ask," she amended quickly.

Spike smirked and sat on the bed; waiting.

"Knew it!" she beamed, spinning around to display a royal blue button-up.

"That's where that went," he chuckled as she tossed it to him.

"Hurry up. We're leaving in five minutes," she instructed, turning back to retrieve her jacket from the wardrobe.

Spike pursed his lips as he watched her for a minute; considering an innuendo at the prospect of undressing in front of her. He let it slide for now and shrugged, standing up to strip off his worn shirt before sliding into the new one.

"Buffy?" He whimpered as she turned back to face him, sweeping her hair out from between her back and jacket collar.

"What?" She asked as she saw his complaint. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with this?" He grumbled, trying to will the shirt closed. Though the rest of the garment appeared pristine, all the buttons were inexplicably missing.

"I think I have some safety pins," she offered, ducking into the bathroom with Spike close behind.

"When did…was this when the building fell around us?" He wondered as she pulled him to stand before her.

"This should work for now," she explained quickly; dismissing his comment while sitting on the toilet seat in front of him. "We can sew on new ones later."

"I bloody loved this shirt," he mumbled as she stabbed the first pin into the fabric.

"Dawn knows how to mend stuff like this."

"Oi! Pin it again!" He whined as she looked up at him sternly.

"Do you want my help or not?"

"I've done the punk thing, sweetheart. I don't want all those pins showing!"

Buffy cursed under her breath as she pulled the safety pin out. "_Done_ the punk thing? As in past tense?"

"Blood tacky is what that is," he muttered indignantly, still pointing to the exposed pins.

Buffy rolled her eyes as she examined the best way to keep the pins hidden but still hold the shirt together. "Hold still."

Spike's eyes widened as her left hand slid under the hem of his shirt; her warm skin brushing innocently over his stomach. He flinched as the point pierced through the fabric and back again, pricking him slightly.

'Ooh, sorry," she glanced up at him quickly. He shook it off; his un-beating heart would be rapidly thumping if it could. She moved onto the next, and the next; her left hand grazing up his abdomen with each pin until she reached his sternum. She stood now, straightening the garment and appraising the closures.

"What do you think? One more?" She asked, twirling the safety pin between her fingers.

Spike said nothing, cueing Buffy to continue with the last pin. Though this time she reached, on her tiptoes and craned her neck as she delved her hand down into the front of his shirt.

Her face was close to his now; her neck exposed. He inhaled the scent of her hair as his mouth went dry. She stumbled slightly, pressing herself against him to brace herself. Unfazed; she kept at it, fumbling with the pin. He tried to suppress his shudder when suddenly he blurted out a husky, "Buffy…"

She pierced the fabric and shut the pin before looking back at him, "Yeah?"

Her sweet breath fanned his face and he shut his eyes, sucking on his teeth to keep from grabbing her. "I think I should go shopping soon, yeah?"

He groaned inwardly at his pathetic answer. Buffy settled her feet back to the floor and just smiled.

"Yeah, I guess you should, huh?" She said innocently; patting his arm like a child before moving around him and out of the bathroom.

He exhaled sharply and clenched his fists before spinning on his heels and exiting too.

"You ready?" She chirped as he emerged, handing him his duster.

"As I'll ever be," he muttered.

***

"The Dungeon" was indeed, Cleveland's answer to the Bronze. Right down to its seedy location and even seedier clientele. But the gang had enjoyed themselves, and other than a few questionably under-aged hangovers, the evening ended with zero casualties.

Even Giles had broken down and enjoyed himself; traces of his younger Ripper persona threatening to burst to the forefront when the band performing had covered the Who's "The Seeker". And Andrew, bless him, after much goading from Faith had tried his very first Whirling Dervish; an obnoxious cocktail that consisted of bourbon, raspberry ginger ale and orange juice.

The next day had been silently dubbed a "freebie", since more than a responsible amount of the group was still not fully functional by noon. By the early evening, most of the charges were back in full force, even if their older counter parts were not. Still, everyone ended up on the top floor's lounge, piled high against one another to watch television and snack on pizza; courtesy of Xander.

Spike had chosen to remain in the quieter confines of apartment 503; much to Buffy's chagrin. But she let it slide. She understood somehow that for all the turn around the vampire had done; a roomful of Slayers was still sometimes too much for him to handle.

When the crowded room began to stifle her; Buffy retreated back to her space to change from her sweater into a t-shirt. As she entered, she turned the corner to see Spike standing by the sink in the bathroom, the empty mirror never failing to disarm her. She watched him silently for a moment. And though she briefly wondered why he hadn't sensed her yet, she enjoying watching him as he curiously perused the various toiletries on the shelf.

Her eyes widened in horror as he grabbed a bottle of perfume; his hand tipping a few droplets onto his palm.

"Ooh! Spike, no!" She called out, barging in.

"Bloody hell!" He screamed as his hand sizzled, dropping the thick glass from his hand.

"Damn it, damn it," Buffy cursed as the bottle clinked against the sink basin, not breaking but spilling its contents down the drain. Meanwhile, Spike remained howling, spinning in tiny circles about her as she grabbed a washcloth and ran cold water under it.

"Here!" She directed, thrusting the cloth onto his hand, trying desperately to hold his hand down.

Spike shook his head vehemently, muttering and wailing. Harkening his crazy basement days as he turned his head away from the burnt flesh. "I'm sorry I was snoopin'….I'm sorry I was snoopin'…won't do it again, promise. I won't do it—"

"Spike!" Buffy said calmly, "Spike, what were you doing?"

"I won't do it again," He stared back at her pathetically, shaking his head.

"What were you doing?" She asked more pointedly.

His hysterical rant dissipated with a sigh as the smug and incredulous tone reemerged.

"I was…I was doin' my business and I found your perfume…I thought I might take a sniff cause I miss…bloody hell, I was being creepy and evil and I got my come-uppance. Happy? "

Buffy gave him a pitiful look before sighing, "Spike…"

"What the bloody hell is in that perfume anyway? Holy water?" He asked with a sniff.

"Yes," she said simply, now fishing for a bandage in the medicine cabinet.

"What?" He looked at her wide eyed.

"I mix the holy water in my perfume and spray it on my pulse points before I go out. Vamps will get quite a surprise if they try and bite me now."

He narrowed his gaze before staring down at her delicate hands fixing him,

"You're a dirty bird," he managed without a sneer.

"Got _you_ didn't it?" She squeezed his hand slightly, making him wince.

"I wasn't trying to bite you," he reminded her petulantly.

"And now you'll stop trying to smell me, too," She snapped back.

"Buffy…" he sighed, pulling away.

"Come here," she instructed softly but firmly, cradling his hand in the palm of her left one as the right one continued to bandage the wound.

Spike rolled his eyes but watched her continue, "This is just grand, ain't it? Gettin' all tended to by the bloody slayer. First my shirt now this…I'm a right ponce. Hardly feel like a vampire anymore."

"The burn's not that bad. It'll probably be gone by tomorrow," she assured him, fastening the last of the gauze.

"Got a soul…don't eat people…" he muttered, ticking off the list of 'ailments' he'd developed over the past few years.

"Sit," she now directed, pushing him back toward the toilet seat.

"Can't smell like I use to….barely finish my cuppa blood," he rambled on, allowing Buffy to press him down onto the throne.

"You know what always gets me?" She mused airily, kneeling before him to remove the safety pins off his shirt from last night's emergency.

"Niblet can fix this, right?" He asked, looking down as he watched her nimble fingers remove each pin one by one, paying him no mind as she continued with her query.

"Even after everything….and I mean, _everything_…you're still Spike."

He cocked his head to one side, "Don't think I followed you around tha—"

"I mean, look at Angel…" She considered, still engrossed in pin removal.

"Rather not," he snorted, though Buffy ran straight through his commentary.

"—with a soul and look and him without. Angel and Angelus are worlds apart. But you…you haven't really changed."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

She looked directly at him at this, "Jury's still out."

He snickered.

"There. You're all patched and pinless," she giggled, rising back up to her full height.

"Yeah, thanks, pet," he murmured, sliding out from in front of her and exiting the bathroom, slipping his shirt off as he wandered back to the futon.

"I know what'll cheer you up," She said after a moment, bounding back into the small living room and plopping on the bed beside him.

"What's that then?" He asked carefully, shifting his leg away when her hand innocently brushed across his thigh.

"How would you like to be my official patrol partner?" She blinked at him sweetly.

He gave her a scrutinizing look, "Is this supposed to cheer me up beca—"

"You'll get to pummel the baddies like you used to!" She informed him, a small smile forming.

"I've helped you on patrol before," he said with a bored roll of his eyes.

"But not _officially._"

"So, what? Do I get a badge now? A plaque with my name engraved?"

"You get the unanimous vote of the entire household to help me patrol."

"You had a vote?"

"Yep. And everyone agreed. The charges are ready to go out without Faith or me but, I wanted back up on my nights. And everyone agreed it should be you."

"Really?" he asked again, sitting up straighter.

"Giles, Robin and Xander, too," she beamed proudly.

"How do you like that?" He muttered, shaking his head.

"So, are you all with the cheeriness?" She chirped, nudging him playfully with her fist.

"A bit," he said with a shrug, sucking on his teeth to hide the smirk that was forming.

She smiled back at him, knowing he was pleased with the news as Willow's frantic voice broke their reverie.

"Buffy, I think you're gonna wanna see this," the redhead squeaked as she stood in the doorway, unconcerned and unaware of the brief serenity the blonde couple had just been sharing.

"What is it, Wil?" Buffy's elation dropped, her tone turning serious. Her face was all business now as Willow beckoned the pair to follow her into the lounge.

***

"Oh my god."

"What the hell is that thing?"

This and what seemed a thousand more panicked cries came from the common room, all twenty some Slayers and associates huddled around the television news announcing the strange events that had suddenly broke.

"_The Chupacabra……"_ came the newscaster, obviously disbelieving the report he was delivering.

"Chupacabra? I thought that was a myth," Kennedy scoffed. A chorus of like sentiments rang out as the charges and company started up again.

Spike grew weary of their chatter quickly. He growled audibly and silenced the room with his announcement. "Newsflash kittens, everything you're dealing with is thought to be a myth."

Buffy smirked as the room grew silent in embarrassment. Xander was the first to break his focus from the news report.

"Hey LeStat, know any insider dish about this thing?"

Spike rolled his eyes and stormed off to retrieve his duster and weapons from Buffy's room, effectively ignoring Xander's barb.

"Impressive, Andrew," Giles commented conspiratorially with the young man, regarding the graphic the report was showing on the newest threat.

Andrew gulped and gave his mentor a pathetic smile, "I didn't summon that."

Giles' face dropped slightly, as his glasses inevitably came off with a flick of his wrist. "Oh dear."

***

Three nights of Chupacabra hunting and eventual killing, three nights of post-hunting and slayage drinking and one night of seedy carnival frolicking finally found Buffy and Spike strolling back to their shared accommodations around three in the morning; stumbling from the tipsyness that had come in the form of celebratory drinks at The Dungeon. The blonde pair giggled mercilessly as they conspiratorially approached the apartment with forced stealth.

"Well, that was fun," Buffy giggled, a few paces in front.

"Yeah, bloody tilt-a-whirl that was," Spike rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

The Chupacabra had proven a worthy adversary, but not worthy enough. Their recent nightly ritual of downing Bourbon shots after hunting had been a welcomed release, but after tonight's victory the group had thought it more thrilling to deviate from their routine and attend a local fun frolic in town.

"You didn't want to ride the tilt-a-whirl!" She snorted, smacking him playfully on the chest as they ascended the stairs.

Spike scoffed, "Bloody know better, pet."

He smiled as she hiccupped and laughed quietly. His earlier comment had simply been a metaphor for their entire week but, who was he to correct the Slayer's drunken literalness?

"Oh that's right," she smirked, turning sloppily to face him as she continued walking backwards down the hall, "You used to stalk carnivals."

He laughed as she feigned disappointment, "All vampires stalk carnivals, love. It's a cliché, I know, but they're always filled with such promise," he sighed longingly.

She grimaced, "Eww," Shaking her head as she spun around to walk forward again.

"What? I didn't mean the people, pet," he balked.

"Yeah, right," she snorted.

"Got a bloody soul now, remember?" He said indignantly.

Buffy stopped and spun around; leaning against her door to regard him carefully. "So what? You prowl state fairs for the stuffed animal prizes?

"The elephant ears," he told her simply.

"What?" She stared back, wide-eyed.

He gave her a bashful grin before looking away with a shameful smirk, "Thought they were real…ya know….took a bite of one and actually liked it."

Buffy's eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she sighed, still leaning against her door. "You're an idiot."

Spike shrugged as he came to lean against the door beside her, "Yeah, well…"

She was staring at him, "Carnivals," she mused wistfully, "I bet you lured women onto the ferris wheel and had your way with them," she accused playfully.

He cocked an eyebrow and sucked on his teeth, "Seen the Lost Boys have we, pet?"

Buffy chuckled, "You're knowledge of pop culture is staggering," she whispered distractedly, running a mindless hand down his duster's lapel.

Spike watched her longingly as he echoed her absent musings, "My knowledge of you is staggering."

She closed her eyes and giggled, "What does that even m—"

Her thought was cut off my Spike's mouth on hers; one hand holding the back of her head as the other braced the small of her back.

Buffy whimpered in the embrace, her hands pressed against his chest before her eyes shot open and she pulled away.

"Stop," she choked out.

Spike's eyes immediately opened as well, his hands suddenly out in front of him defensively, "Oh god…sorry," he muttered, horrified.

"I can't do this," she breathed, her eyes very close to tears.

Spike just stared back at her, pain and disbelief raked across his face.

"Oh Buffy I'm sor-"

"I can't get hurt again," she whispered, shaking her head distractedly.

He mimicked her shaking head with his own; manic but adamant ramblings of fear and disgust ringing in her ears as he spoke, "No, no, you can't. I wouldn't, I would nev—"

Buffy's eyes shot up to his, suddenly realizing what he thought she meant, "No, Spike not…not…I know you wouldn't….I mean…"

But Spike had already convinced himself otherwise, "I'm sorry, love," he repeated, still shaking his head as he began backing away.

She piked forward a smidge, to ease his discomfort, "No, it's not…I mean…God, I don't know what I mean," she sighed, mustering an awkward laugh, "I just….can we just like…erase this moment? Let's just go inside and sleep this off."

But Spike's equally embarrassed but congenial reply never came. As Buffy's last words left her lips the vampire made a deliberate march to the door; escaping behind it.

And without time enough to reconcile why; Buffy sobbed, emitting a slightly manic laugh at the audacity and confusion she now felt.

Spike unfortunately, had been delivered to the point of revulsion, in himself. Flashes of that unspeakable evening in Buffy's bathroom nearly three years ago; the penultimate catalyst for retrieving his soul. He'd sworn to himself that he would never make Buffy feel like that again, never do anything to remind her of that night. He could only hope that she would see the change in him. And she had. But then he'd died, again, for real. And then he'd come back, as alive as he could be. And since his arrival the two had shared a total of two awkward quasi-discussions about their feelings, a shared apartment born out of necessity (she'd insisted) and their time honored tradition of cooperative slayage and banter.

But not since returning had Spike attempted to kiss her. Not that he hadn't thought about it. The safety pins and shirt incident had been the closest. But she had repeatedly brushed off, albeit not maliciously, any semblance of intimacy that ever accidentally occurred. Yes they flirted, openly now it seemed, but nothing close to what they'd experienced before.

He slumped down onto the floor in the stairwell, running a shaky hand through his hair. Maddening fear and rage in what he assumed his touching her again must have done to her. It was instinctual; not calculated or deliberate like his historical advances had been. There had been a glimmer of something; a trigger, that had made him lose himself for those brief moments laughing with her by the door. The irony that Buffy was now a trigger of sorts was not lost on him.

She hadn't violently pushed him away. No, if anyone had been remotely aggressive, it had been him. No in fact, if Spike had been less concerned with his own actions he would have noticed Buffy's stuttered attempts to clarify her sudden retraction. Her quick brush off of what was most assuredly the most perverse exchange of their relationship. No, if Spike's lingering bravado hadn't been sullied by his own guilt and shame, he would have seen the pained expression in Buffy's eyes as he ran away from her.

***

"Did you find him yet?" Buffy panted, bracing an arm against the doorjamb to the lounge.

"Nope," Xander said casually, plopping down to the couch to resume his television surfing.

"We're you even looking?" The tiny blonde balked, crossing over to the man and shoving him in his seat.

Xander stared back at her incredulously, "Gee, Buffster, I'm sorry. Must be that pesky eye I'm missing."

Willow was in mid-rise, prepared to fend off a potential fight between her two closest friends when Buffy inhaled sharply and collapsed beside Xander on the couch.

"I'm sorry Xand. I just…I need to find him."

Willow tempered a scowl and looked at her friend, "Is everything okay?"

"I hope so," Buffy sighed.

"You guys aren't…" Xander questioned, hoping his vagueness would suffice.

It did. Buffy's eyes widened, desperate to clarify the situation. "No, no! But…."

"Oh god, Buffy…"

"Xander! Let her finish," Willow scolded.

"He kis—", Buffy started before accepting the difference in circumstance this time. "_We_ kissed."

"Wow," Willow said, a tiny smirk forming.

"Oh god," Xander groaned.

"It wasn't ba- I just….I think I ran him off," Buffy squirmed, feeling foolish.

"Good," the boy said in a huff.

"Xander!" Willow smacked him on the shoulder.

The boy flinched but gaped wildly back at the two women. "What? At least he took the hint this time."

"You don't hate Spike anymore," Buffy patronized.

"Since when?" He bit back.

"You said yes to the patrol vote!" She spat sharply.

Xander shook in defense, "Cause the guy's a demon, and he's done it before."

"The more things change…." Buffy muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.

Xander sigh audibly, drawing a skeptical look from the blonde beside him.

"Look, I'm not saying I don't see how Spike's different now….I just….only see fifty percent of the difference."

"I pulled away from him and he got….I think he got scared," Buffy admitted after a moment.

Willow's creased brow rose in understanding, "Like he thought you thought…."

"Yeah…." Buffy said grimly.

"Oh god," Xander muttered, now too realizing the implication.

"Wow," Willow breathed.

"Yeah…." Buffy said again.

He should go back. It'd been over two hours. The sun would rise in a few more. Not that he cared or feared the day anymore. Why bother? He'd already squared off with the celestial orb once, and the way he felt right now…dusting might be a relief.

The one word, 'stop', echoed through his brain, causing his jaw to quake and his chest tighten. But he felt oddly responsible for returning to her and at least letting her know he'd be leaving. Remembering how to curb his still present affections for the Slayer was easy; he'd done it long enough. Even in the emotional purgatory his sudden reappearance had left them in, it was easy. Keep it to himself, he would. But then they'd kissed. The intimacy, the closeness, the memory of kissing her before he'd died…everything came rushing back. There'd be no way to stifle his want now. He'd reclaimed it again, even for a few seconds, she'd been his again. He had to leave. Where he'd go, he didn't know. But he owed it to her to at least tell her he'd be leaving. She deserved that much.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	4. Shadows, Curtains, Dust

_**Chapter Four  
**__**Shadows, Curtains, Dust**_

Spike spun around to take in the surroundings, noticing a black marble, bat shaped valance marking the threshold into the kitchen. He pointed up toward the buttress in question.

"A bat valance, really?" He asked skeptically.

Buffy turned to inspect the decoration as well, frowning, "I didn't think that was really true about vamps."

"It's a misnomer, but they look cool," the tall man shrugged.

Spike snickered as he left the tacky décor alone and wandered around the room,

"Whatever floats your boat, fancy pants."

Spike's determined departure from Casa de Slayer hadn't been as blustering as he would have hoped. He returned only to get an earful from Andrew of all people, at the foolishness of him running away. After a half-hearted attempt to scare the young man, it was Xander and Willow's turn to yell at him. He felt annoyed with the one-eyed whelp and embarrassed by Willow's sudden scolding. Though he knew better than to try and scare her.

He still hadn't even talked to Buffy, the one person his argument to leave actually concerned. Giles devoted a cornered moment of time to inflict a modicum of wisdom and parental compassion that he was so known for; agreeing to Spike's adamant claim that Buffy should be the final say in whether or not he left.

But it was the conspicuous appearance of Dawn that broke Spike's reserve. Seeing the young girl enter the room, Buffy close behind; both bleary-eyed. But while Buffy's face was one of concern, Dawn's was angry.

She laid into him for scaring them and her. When Spike attempted a rebuttal, refusing to believe any of them would seriously fear for his well-being; the young girl slapped him.

The smack was Buffy's cue to dismiss her concerned if not unorthodox family of friends from her bedroom, effectively leaving her and the vampire to settle their latest transgression alone.

A heartfelt talk it was not. But after much suppressed back-talk and defensiveness; they came to a strange compromise. Spike did need to leave, for awhile. But Buffy wanted to go with him. And she knew exactly where to go.

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?" Angel sighed, passing them both to raid the fridge for refreshments.

"Funny you bring that up…" Spike started, still distracted by the miscellany of Angel's abode.

"Spike's sick," Buffy said abruptly. The worry in her voice caused Angel to pause as Spike groaned at her bluntness.

"Love—"

"Tell me something I don't know," Angel muttered bitterly.

"Hey," the blond vamp snarled before Buffy placed a calming hand to his shoulder.

"I'm serious, Angel," She spoke again, stepping up beside him.

Angel shot an unimpressed glance toward Spike before turning back to her, "So was I."

"What?" Buffy was confused.

Angel sighed and retreated into a small study off of the living room before returning with a folder in his hands.

"Someone's been keeping tabs on you," he announced, waving the folder in the air to indicate its contents.

"What?" Spike spat, reaching for the file before Angel pulled it away and handed it to Buffy instead. Spike rolled his eyes and stepped behind Buffy to read along over her shoulder.

"Can't sleep during the day, sense of smell's been hindered, am I right?" Angel rattled off, returning to his task of serving drinks for him and his guests.

"Have you been stalking me you bloody poof?" Spike growled, looking up at his grandsire.

"It's not me, Spike. I don't know who's been following you but I've been receiving information about your growing condition for months now," Angel explained, crossing over to the coffee table in the main room with two mugs of blood and a cup of coffee for Buffy.

"And you didn't tell me?" Buffy glared at the older vampire, ignoring his proffered mug.

Angel shrugged and set the mugs on the table, "Figured you come to me eventually," his cavalier tone softened into hurt, "Besides, you seem to be getting along fine without me."

Spike started to smirk as Buffy glanced awkwardly between the two men. "I've been busy," she stammered, suddenly finding great interest inside the mug of coffee.

Angel merely nodded, taking a sip from his own mug. He watched the pair carefully, sitting close to one another on the sofa across from him. Spike was naturally more relaxed, despite the faint whiff of fear he felt; as far as Angel could sense. He was concerned about his growing condition as well, though he'd never admit that out loud.

Buffy was sitting up straighter; her smaller frame causing her to sit at the edge of the sofa and still reach the table comfortably. Angel sighed inwardly as he noticed Spike's left arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, his fingers absently playing with the ends of the woman's blonde locks. Buffy didn't notice; or if she did, didn't seem to mind. She continued reading through the file and sipped her coffee.

Angel was just about to return his finished mug to the kitchen when Spike caught his attention once more. While the younger vamp's left arm had been his focus before, the actions of his right were now what he found interesting. Though Spike had taken up the mug of blood Angel had offered, he hadn't drank any of it.

"Not hungry?" Angel blurted out, staring intently at the blonde vampire.

Spike's eyes shot up to the darker man, his lips pursing indignantly. Had Buffy been watching, she might have notice the silent exchange of glares between the two. Angel knew something Spike either didn't know or wasn't going to admit.

"It got cold," Spike said finally with a snort, setting the mug back down on the table. "And Goldilocks usually makes it to order for me," he finished with a smirk as Buffy raised her head at the sound of his nickname.

"Huh?" She asked distractedly, looking between the two men.

Angel snickered. _Spike was slick_. His reminder of how companionable and domestic he and Buffy were together now almost distracted Angel completely, but not quite.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Spike," Angel said sweetly, "I'll just make you a new cup then. Just the way you like it."

"No!" Spike blurted out.

Spike stood as Angel did, effectively stopping the older vamp in his tracks. The two stared each other down menacingly. Buffy was watching now, confused and a little annoyed at the never-ending pissing contest.

"Should I get a ruler?" She snorted with a roll of her eyes.

"No need, pet," Spike hissed; his challenging gaze on Angel unfaltering.

"Yeah," Angel agreed; his own stare matching Spike's, "We're fine, Buffy," his growl dissolving back into a more conversational tone as he finally broke away and headed back to the kitchen.

"How long have you known about this?" Buffy clarified, still seated on her perch at the sofa's edge. Spike sank back down and hovered over her to read the paper in her lap.

"What's Peaches' report say?" He mumbled, scanning the page.

"Since Spike was brought back," Angel reminded her, suddenly appearing over the pair.

Buffy lifted her head and stared back at Angel, Spike still looking into her lap at the file.

"You think it's connected somehow," she said as more of a statement than a question.

Angel nodded as Spike finally looked up, "And you don't know who sent all this info to you?" Spike asked as Angel took a seat once more.

"Nope," he shook his head. "But at Wolfram and Hart, it could be anybody."

"Or any_thing_," Spike countered with disgust.

"Why would someone keep track of Spike like this?" Buffy wondered out loud, "And why would they send all of this to you?"

Angel shrugged, "I'm the only family he's got left," Angel supposed, "I'm the CEO, I'm a vampire with a soul too….who knows…"

"You're both connected to _me_," Buffy added softly.

Spike's eyes shot to Angel as Buffy's words landed. Angel diverted the other man's gaze and gave Buffy a sad smile, "I thought about that too."

***

This was a bad idea. The entire trip had been a bad idea. Buffy thought it would help; seeing Angel again, getting answers on a mysterious something that had been plaguing Spike for weeks now…but it wasn't helping. It was a bad idea.

No amount of time, be it together or apart; could seem to assuage the petty rivalry between the two master vampires. The calculated glares, the sneers of Spike, the perfected creased brow of Angel…they were doctoral students in the art of schoolboy tantrums.

And yet; when Angel suggested they spend the night, he'd offered them the spare bedroom upstairs; together. Alone.

"I know I've probably done a lot of questionably unslayerish things in my history but, I don't think I should be sleeping in this bed," Buffy grimaced as she regarded the object in question.

The same marble bat that graced the kitchen's threshold was now anchored to the high and low bed frame endings. The king sized mattress tucked snugly within the solid structure; signature red velvet sheets and duvet draped over.

"Well, I'm right there with you, pet. The bat motif's bloody idiotic. Why doesn't Forehead sleep up here? The fly by night creature ornaments aside, this room's soddin' huge."

That much was true. As they'd seen earlier, Angel slept in a cell-like room downstairs off of the kitchen. A low overhead square with no windows (naturally), and a half wall that divided the bedroom portion from a makeshift bathroom.

The upstairs room was clearly the master bedroom. King size bed aside; the square inch measurements dwarfed Angel's, and included a high credenza, an open entrance to a full, luxurious bathroom and grand French doors that led outside.

Buffy's eyes widened as realization hit. "I think that's why," she said as her eyes settled on the mullion-stricken portal. "But that's a problem."

Spike turned to regard what Buffy was referring to. He scowled in contempt as he noticed the expansive doorway was not fitted with the same treatment as the downstairs doors had been.

"Bloody bastard wants to test his theory," Spike said under his breath.

Not low enough though. Buffy shot him a confused look, "What?"

Spike gave her an awkward grin, "Nothing, love. I'll see if the oaf's got anything we can use."

"I'll check the drawers," she nodded; spinning around to do just that.

"Yeah, good idea…" Spike muttered distractedly; still staring at the expansive balcony doors in wonder before leaving to find Angel.

***

"You poncy son of a bitch!" Spike cried as he wriggled between Angel's hands and the wall. He'd gone looking for Angel to give him a piece of his mind; but ultimately to steal a makeshift curtain for the bedroom. Wandering into Angel' study had led him to the former. Though at the moment, Angel had the upper hand.

The older man gave Spike a patronizing grin, still pinning the younger one firmly against the wall by the collar; Spike's legs dangling pathetically.

"You know what's happening to you, don't you?" Angel bellowed.

"Don't know what you're talkin' bout," Spike choked out as Angel tightened his grip; Spike's hand coming up to rest on Angel's as he struggled to pry them off.

"You might be able to fool Buffy, but you can't fool me," the darker man seethed as he dropped the blond unceremoniously to the floor.

"What would you know about it, you bloody po-"

"More than you think," Angel cut in; his dangerous glare answering all of Spike's questioning one. The younger vamp cursed, brushed himself off and began pacing back and forth before him.

"Bloody hell, can I do anything without you having already done it too?"

Angel smirked and leaned against the door with his arms crossed, "Doesn't look like it."

"When?" Spike asked suddenly; stopping to face his grandsire.

"Five years ago," Angel sighed, shifting to a more comfortable stance against the wall.

"She's never said anything about it."

"She doesn't remember. I made sure…I'm the only one who would…"

Spike tilted his head curiously, "You didn't want her to?"

"Same reason _you_ don't want to."

Spike was silent, miraculously.

Angel sighed again, loudly; releasing his defensive posture and stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. "Spike, _somehow_….Buffy wants _you_. "

Spike scoffed and shook his head vehemently. "No she doesn't, mate." He resumed his pacing.

Angel's hands flew out of his pockets, gesticulating emphatically, "Yes, Spike. _She does_. But you have to believe she'll still want you even if—"

Spike stopped pacing once more, standing his ground and piking forward in despair_._

"_When_, mate! _When I_….it's gonna happen. It's happening as we bloody speak! And she won't. What good am I to her this way? She doesn't find out, got it?"

"She's gonna figure it out sooner or later, Spike. "

And the blond began to pace again, a plan forming. "I'll leave before she gets the chance and then it'll be too late."

"So you'd risk breaking her heart by leaving? To do what, Spike? Risk breaking yours?"

Spike huffed and shook his head, digging into his pocket to retrieve a cigarette and his Zippo. "So, how long have I got?'

"I don't know. Don't smoke in here."

Spike ignored him and slid the stick into his mouth, "And you said you started getting' reports when I was brought back?"

"Roughly four months ago," Angel said with a roll of his eyes as Spike when to light the cigarette. "_Spike?_" he reminded him pointedly.

Spike feigned ignorance and smirked before Angel erased their distance in two steps and ripped the smoke from his lips.

"These things will kill you," Angel supplied as Spike gave him a dirty look, "And this time, they actually can."

Spike narrowed his gaze at the taller man, yanking the smoke away and tucking it behind his ear before sighing into the nearest chair. "Why is this happening to me?"

Angel shook his head and walked around the desk to take a seat as well. "I don't know, Spike. It's not like you deserve it."

Spike snorted, "You're bloody right, I don't."

Angel lifted his head and frowned, "I meant that as an insult."

***

Giles studied the girl for a moment before tilting his head in quiet contemplation, "Was Angel able to give you any information?"

Buffy shook her head, "Not really, other than someone's been tracking Spike since he came back," she lowered her head to focus on the hem of her sweater. Despite having assured Spike that the stolen kiss fiasco was behind her, despite assuring him that she knew his intentions were to never hurt her like he had, and despite the potentially awkward but ultimately uneventful bed sharing they'd been forced into at Angel's….

"He was being weird. They both were. I feel like I'm not being told something."

A slightly amused smile crept onto the senior watcher's face, "That may very well be. Angel is not known for his forthcoming nature."

"But Spike is," Xander bleated.

"Xander…" Buffy rolled her eyes.

Giles chewed on his glasses in consideration, "No, that's actually a good point. Spike is usually without discretion. If you feel he perhaps knows more than he's leading on about his sudden condition, there may be cause to worry."

"What could possibly be going on with him that would make him hide it from _Buffy_?" Willow wondered.

"He isn't losing his soul is he? Like Angel? Oh god, Buff…you didn't…" Xander whined.

"Xander!" Buffy cried helplessly as she stood, "Jesus, why do you always go back to that?"

"Sorry…"

"And he's not losing his soul," Buffy continued, now beginning to pace. "If anything he's becoming more soulful. He's been moodier and all with the pouty ever since we got back from L.A."

"Angel rubbed off on him, huh?" Xander quipped.

Buffy shot him a dirty look as Willow grimaced.

"Got to be a better way to say that…"

_**To Be Continued…**_


	5. The Spied Piper

_**Chapter Five  
**_**_The Spied Piper_**

_Heart and soul, I fell in love with you  
Lost control, the way a fool would do  
Gladly...  
_

Spike's brow was tightly knit into a grimace as the band played their punk rendition.

"Bloody hate this song…" he mumbled as he knocked back his fourth shot.

_Because you held me tight,  
And stole a kiss in the night.._

"Bah-bah dah…." He hummed, in spite of himself, "ba-da-dee-dum-de-dum, bah-bah-dah…"

He growled, waving an impatient arm to signal the bartender as the innocuous song jingle came to an end.

"Bout bleedin' time," he huffed as his glass was refilled. The muffled announcement for the next performer was heard, Spike barely giving notice until he heard the ominously low exhale of a highly conspicuous instrument.

"An accordion?" He wondered as he spun around in his stool to face the stage.

A singular man, indiscernible in age; tricked out in an assortment of instruments akin to Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins, stood before the microphone, simply tugging and pushing the instrument back and forth like taffy as his fingers tickled the piano portion on occasion. The somber intro tiptoed into an eerie but playful staccato. The attached dulcimer was plucked for a haunting melody.

Then he sang.

Like gravel chased with whisky; a Russian folk balladeer fused with Tom Waits.

_The flowers by your bed are wilting.  
The sun is setting in the west.  
A fog is covering your eyes,  
Your stockings are attracting flies,  
Decay is nibbling at the boards on which you rest.  
_

Spike was staring, blatantly. His eyes transfixed on a mouthful of bad teeth and beautiful sounds.

_  
There's someone waiting at your window,  
Familiar face without a name.  
One night he'll creep in like the mist,  
To touch your forehead with a kiss,  
And lead you back into the void from whence you came._

The man began the lamenting chorus, the Dungeon's inhabitants now all wandering closer to the stage, picking partners at random and waltzing in broad, melodramatic circles as the minstrel upon the stage pined and cried.

_  
We've all begun to die, and don't know what to do.  
Since it hurts to pray to God, when God is dying too.  
Takes strength to laugh, when you start to drown.  
And we dance while the sky crashes down.  
_

_Like that the earth begins to quiver,  
And all the oceans turn to black.  
A ship of maniacs with knives,  
Are playing Blackjack with their lives,  
To kill the time until the giant rats attack.  
_

_It's raining leprosy and acid.  
The saints were taken out and shot.  
When someone proffers you a pear,  
You sink your teeth in unaware,  
That just beneath the skin lies pestilence and rot.  
_

Spike had abandoned his seat at the bar long ago, having slid distractedly to his feet and found himself gliding closer and closer to the stage. The words ringing in his ears; the marching of the bass line feeding him an artificial heart beat.

_We've all begun to die, and don't know what to do.  
Since it hurts to pray to God, when God is dying too.  
Takes strength to laugh, when you start to drown.  
And we dance while the sky crashes down.  
_

_All that now breathes, and all that you love,  
All that we weave, will find its way back to the dust._

_A band of skeletons are playing,  
Don't act like you don't know the tune.  
Your part is echoed in the path,  
Of every dead leaf blowing past,  
Against a counterpoint reflected off the moon._

_There is a banquet at the table,  
Exotic cheeses wines and cakes.  
And every one of us is damned,  
Until we start to understand,  
That living is to gorge ourselves at our own wakes._

_We've all begun to die, and don't know what to do.  
Since it hurts to pray to God, when God is dying too.  
Takes strength to laugh, when you start to drown.  
And we dance while the sky crashes down.  
_

_When the stakes are high, best to play the clown.  
And we dance while the sky crashes down._

***

"One, two, Ki-yah!"

"Ki-yah!"

"One, two, Ki-yah!"

"Ki-yah!"

"One, two, Ki-yah!"

"Ki-yah!"

"And….bow," Robin finished, bending at the waist to his class.

The class of eight, both men and women bowed dutifully as Faith spun her head back around to face the table.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm a lucky bitch."

Kennedy snickered as she shook her head, turning the city map around once more to regard a different quadrant.

"Well, there's no pattern," she sighed.

"That's good right? We can rule out some Bundy wannabe?" Faith asked, skeptical hope etched on her face.

Kennedy shrugged as Dawn slumped down into a chair; a pile of books stacked high before her.

"Research?" Kennedy wondered.

Dawn grimaced and shook her head, "Homework. I'm starting summer correspondence before the fall."

"Drag," Faith muttered with a chuckle as Robin wandered over to them, saying good bye to the last of his students for the day.

"Hey hot stuff," Faith cooed as he gave her a quick smile and stopped to stand behind her.

"The Campbell's asked for another extension on their tuition check," he stated grimly.

Kennedy scoffed, "Isn't that like, the third time?"

Robin shrugged, "I told them fine, for now. I figured with everything that's happening the past few weeks, I'd give them a break."

"Shit, I know money makes _me _go nuts," Faith snickered.

Robin squeezed her shoulders with a dry laugh, "Which is why I didn't press the issue."

Dawn looked up thoughtfully, "Anya and Giles usually take care of the books," she explained, abandoning her seat to cross toward the front counter. "I bet we could work out a payment plan for the Campbells."

Robin followed, "Just as long as it doesn't mess anything up. I don't want us to have to take a hit while all this other stuff is going on."

Dawn waved off concern, "Willow already said it wasn't mystical. It's not really our jurisdiction."

"So that's why half the Slayers are patrolling in the middle of the afternoon?" Robin asked her skeptically.

Dawn gave him a bashful grin, "Just double-checking."

Robin shot her a wry smile as the girl handed him the Campbell's folder.

"Thanks," he muttered distractedly, scanning the page.

"I'd talk to Giles first," Dawn suggested, "Anya's gonna freak."

***

"It's the hellmouth, isn't it?" Anya whined, staring out the window as Xander put the car in park.

"An, Willow already confirmed that it wasn't."

"But Xander," Anya mooed, "People don't just kill themselves in one fell swoop. Suicide is a slapdash occurrence. This is flagrant." She insisted, turning back in concern as five young girls appeared from across the street.

"They're back," Xander said as he unlocked the car and stepped out. "How'd it go ladies?"

The three patrolling slayers rounded the car in unison. Violet addressed Xander, "Same as the other ones," she sighed.

"Found the couple in bed this time, though," Frankie added as they slid into the car.

Anya turned around in her seat as Xander started driving back to the apartments, "Were they mid coitus?"

Frankie gave a loud chuckle as Carrie and Violet grimaced, "Eww."

"No," Frankie managed to choke out, "But they were holding each other. Matching guns and wounds."

"And we're sure it's like the rest?" Xander asked, sneaking a concerned look to the girl through the rearview mirror.

"Oh yeah," Frankie said emphatically. "Definitely suicide. Two guns, each took themselves out. May have even done it at the same time. Like a pact or something."

"Jesus," Xander muttered.

"Flagrant," Anya mused again, unimpressed and frightened. "Flagrant."

***

"There is absolutely no categorical evidence that would suggest what you're proposing," Giles sputtered, having phrased the same sentiment ten times already.

"I don't need categ-blah, blah, evidence, Giles. I can feel it," Buffy insisted, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it into her mouth.

"It's preposterous. Why on earth would the young man want to kill her?" Giles asked, gesturing to the television screen as the movie continued on.

"It's always the boyfriend," Buffy said.

"I think you're wrong," Giles huffed as he furrowed his brow in concentration, reaching for the popcorn.

Spike stepped out of the apartment, holding his duster in one arm as he approached the common room. Seeing Buffy and the older man engrossed in the television set, he craned his neck with intrigue and settled on the back on the couch behind Buffy.

"Another suicide?" He asked worriedly before being shushed abruptly by Giles.

"Oh, for god's sake…why on earth would she lock the door?" Giles complained to the screen.

"She's the slutty blonde one," Buffy said annoyed. "She's so gonna get it."

"A horror movie?" Spike blurted out, "There's mysterious deaths all over the city and you two are watching a soddin' slasher film?"

Buffy absently smacked his arm, her eyes still trained on the screen, "Wil's already ruled out potential hellmouthyness. It's a police thing now."

Spike rolled his eyes and stood back up, sliding into his coat and heading for the door. He stopped for a moment and turned back to Buffy, "Fancy a drink at the Dungeon with me, pet?"

Buffy remained fixed on the movie for a second longer before turning to him, "Huh?"

Spike sighed and shook his head, "Never mind." He slammed the door behind him.

***

He wasn't alone, that was first thing Spike noticed when he saw the same captivating man on stage this time. He had two violinists behind him, flanking either side.

The vamp strolled up the bar, his eyes fixed on the stage as the seductive tugging of the violin strings kept pulling; creating nothing but ambience for the moment.

And then he parted his lips once again; clandestine vocals, as if revealing a secret.

_I walked across a continent  
where children did not bat an eye  
when made to watch their mothers die  
they left the bodies by the sides of roads  
where only willows cried  
yes even my own eyes were dry  
when somehow there I lost my bride  
the ring slipped free and fell beneath the earth_

_so like Orpheus I bowed and went  
far underneath the firmaments  
my harp strings broke  
my voice was spent  
I kissed my lady's hand and sent  
my two weeks notice with my rent  
and she grew cold and softly said  
I am not your lover _

_I'm the map you use to find her  
I am not your lover  
I'm just a map you use to find her  
_

And even as Spike remained transfixed; he realized something. He shook the trance away and scanned the room. An inordinate amount of couples crowded the dance floor; hurriedly but not violently. Each pair pressed together desperately; clinging to one another as if their lives depended on it.

_I step outside my room once more  
and see what I have seen before  
another ship washed to my shore  
a figure walked towards my door  
her face is tired her dress is torn  
I look into her eyes and feel her thirst  
_

It _was_ a secret being revealed. _Or a plan_. Spike stood conspicuously alone amidst the tragic couples swaying and spinning, somehow mesmerized by the music as they were but not compelled to dance. His gaze narrowed as the music swelled, the heat radiating off each human body growing.

_  
She says I've come across these waters  
high pressed on by such auspicious signs  
I've watched the stars and read the tides  
the winds have brought me to your side _

Spike battled against the sea of dancers, thick and unyielding as he rushed to the exit. Something wasn't right here. He'd been privy to enough mystical forces to know when something was demonic. The enthralling musician he'd been watching for the past two weeks was most assuredly not human. He had to get out of there.

_I come to you  
I am your bride  
and I grew cold as I replied  
that I am not your lover,  
I'm the map you used to find him  
I am not your lover  
I'm just a map you use to find him._

_***_

"I didn't do it," Xander and Dawn pleaded in unison.

The two looked at one another suspiciously before turning back to the group.

Bemused chuckles and wary eyes reluctantly drifted from the paranoid couple and back to the tiny blonde as she spoke.

"Wil, you've scanned the city twice, how is this possible?" Buffy reasoned.

The redhead shrugged and studied the grimoire. "I don't know," she sighed before turning to the vamp, "Spike, are you sure?"

"Red, I know a demon when I see one and something was definitely happening in that club last night."

"Another musical demon, what are the odds?" Buffy laughed bitterly.

"Even if this guy's is a demon, there's nothing that could link him to the recent suicides."

Spike shook his head vehemently, "I'm telling you, they're all connected. This mess hadn't even started until that bloke showed up."

"But all the victims died by their own hands," Carrie whimpered, grimacing at having to reiterate the gruesome point.

Willow nodded and turned back to Spike, "With no mystical energy anywhere."

"So maybe he's a different type then," Spike insisted.

"Anya, can you recall any sort of demon like this in you lifetime?" Giles wondered, attempting a new approach.

"I'd have to look into it," Anya said seriously, "Vengeance was a different department."

"You said it sounded like a secret? Or a plan?" Andrew chimed in, obviously confused.

Spike rolled his eyes, "Not the demon, you ponce. His song! I was all starry eyed then I actually started listening to the words. It was like he was telling the crowd his personal sob story."

"Can you remember any of the lyrics?" Giles wondered.

Spike shrugged as Faith considered something, "How'd you break the trance?"

"I don't know," Spike said honestly, "I was in it for a bit, yeah? Came back in a rush. Suddenly knew what was happening again."

"The demon and the soul were battling for consciousness," Andrew said wistfully.

Buffy rolled her eyes before turning back to Spike, "It didn't make you…ya know, do anything, did it?"

"Still here, ain't I?"

"No I mean, to somebody else?"

"Like the First bit? No. Barely drink the blood I have here."

Giles seem to consider this last addition suddenly pertinent, "Yes, how has that been?"

Spike gave the Watcher a curious look, "How you mean?"

"Giles," Buffy cut in, "I think we have more important things to discuss right now."

Spike could have been insulted but was grateful for the interruption. He still didn't know for certain what was happening to him; though what he and Angel had discussed had given him all the proof he needed. And whatever it was; it was still slow to process. He hadn't tested any other theories, fearing their results.

And for now, they did have more important things to discuss. Namely, a musical demon that was possessing people to commit suicide.

***

Buffy agreed to check out the musician with Spike; to which Anya insisted she come along in case she recognized the demon. To which Xander followed, wanting to be with Anya. Faith and Robin tagged along for good measure and moral support.

The charges, alongside Andrew; were instructed to split into two groups and patrol, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activities that could link the minstrel back to the recent mass suicides.

Kennedy, at the behest of Willow, stayed at the apartments; researching along with Dawn and Giles.

The Dungeon was crowded tonight, a virtual buffet for any number of creatures. The group of six pushed through the crowd by the door, limbs flying as they all attempted to squeeze through.

"Jesus, with all the suicides, ya'd think there'd be a little more room!" Faith shouted as a random elbow jabbed her side.

Buffy shot her a look as Faith recoiled, "Sorry. Bad taste."

Xander yelled something over the din as Anya led them out of the human thicket, gasping at the sudden intake of new oxygen.

Spike could barely hear what the boy had said but gazed over toward the stage before the pack finally found a miraculously abandoned couch near the back wall.

"Bollocks, that's not him," Spike groaned as he noticed the stage. There was a decidedly human band that was performing. Some fluffy pop music, though not necessarily _not evil_, the blond vamp decided as he scowled.

Buffy scanned the room, "Maybe the bartender knows when he's playing next?"

"Never caught the git's name, love."

"Describe him," Buffy instructed, pushing the vamp toward the bar, "Besides, I could use a drink. Who wants what?"

"I'll come too," Anya said brightly. "Xander likes to watch me lean over the counter."

Xander blushed furiously as Spike and Buffy both rolled their eyes. Faith gave the boy an encouraging punch to the arm as Robin smirked.

***

"I don't know about this whole thing," Willow said with a sigh, closing another book. "I've checked with the Iamblichus twice now, there's nothing going on. If this singer person really is a demon and he's really causing all these deaths…I'm not sure what to do about it."

"Well, I've found four musical demons, but none of them talk about making people off themselves," Kennedy announced with a tired flip of the page.

"Yes, I do wish Spike had been more specific about what he'd witnessed," Giles agreed distractedly.

"Ken," Dawn chimed in as the girl looked to her, "Was there anything weird about the crimes scenes you and the girls found?"

Kennedy shook her head, "Other than there's a whole lotta ways to kill yourself? Nope."

Giles seemed intrigued by Dawn's argument, "Why do you ask?"

The young girl shrugged, "Well, all of Sweet's victims combusted, right? Like, blew up in flames. So there was a pattern, I guess I'm just wondering if we've missed something."

"Well," Giles began, "We were all transfixed into song. That was certainly our strongest lead to him."

"But none of the victims killed themselves the same way," Willow furthered, "Yeah sure, I mean, they all committed suicide but different methods. And none of the reports have mentioned anything about singing or dancing."

"Or spontaneous combustion," Giles added.

"Yeah," Willow concluded sadly to Dawn, giving her a patronizing smile. "Sorry Dawnie but, I still think Spike's wrong."

***

"Oh sure, you mean Jason," the bartender said.

"Jason?" Buffy balked, "His name's _Jason?"_

"Yeah. About this high, shaggy hair, bad teeth, xylophone strapped to his chest, right?"

Buffy looked to Spike for confirmation, which he granted with a nod, "That's him."

"He goes on around ten," the bartender relayed as he set their drinks down.

"Thanks, mate," Spike said with a nod, downing his shot before handling his beer. Anya smiled and deliberately reached further than necessary for the other drinks, elbowing Buffy inadvertently.

"Is he looking?" Anya glanced awkwardly over her shoulder as Spike suppressed a smirk.

Buffy stole a glance at the back wall to confirm. Xander was in a heated discussion with Faith and Robin about something, "Yep, sure is. Much with the ogling," she lied.

Anya giggled and climbed back down, holding the tray of refreshments. "He likes to watch when—"

"We got it, pet. Don't make him wait any longer, yeah?" Spike said sharply.

Anya ignored him; choosing to nod and dutifully leaving to bring the drinks back to the rest of the group. Spike snickered as he looked back toward Buffy.

"You're supposed to drink it," he said wryly, watching her sniff the contents of her shot glass.

She gave him a bemused scowl before knocking back the amber liquid and groaning, "Yuck. Why do I do these? I hate this stuff."

"Got to keep up with me, I s'pose," Spike mused, taking another sip of his beer as Buffy reached behind them to collect her own beer.

Spike considered Xander and Anya's flirtatious ritual as Buffy's backside was now arched in a similar manner. He smiled to himself as he watched her slide back down into the stool, unaware of his gaze.

"Well its nine thirty right now," she said, "We have a half hour before all hell supposedly breaks loose."

Spike nodded toward the couch where the rest of the gang sat, "Should we go back and join 'em?"

"Let's not," she stopped him, grabbing his arm. "They're all coupley with their foursome."

Her dismissal of her and Spike as the two "singles" of the group did not go unnoticed. It stung, even if it was technically true.

"Right. Fifth and Sixth wheels, yeah?" He muttered as he took another swig.

***

Willow tenderly rubbed circles along Kennedy's back as her girlfriend faded in and out of distracted sleep. Willow yawned as she too struggled to keep her eyes open.

Giles was fixing yet another kettle of tea for their group while Dawn remained determined to find any information to help prove Spike's theory.

"Oh look guys," Dawn chirped, "I found Sweet's entry."

"Dawnie," Willow whined, "We already know it's not Sweet. Spike was there for that, remember? He would have recognized him if it was Sweet."

"That's actually not what was interesting," Dawn snapped as she tossed the dog-eared book at Willow. "Read what it actually says about him."

Willow gave Dawn a skeptical look before begrudgingly pulling her hand from Kennedy's back and opening the book. Giles, having overheard the girls' minor spat came up behind the redhead and scanned the page also.

"Sweet was a minor demon," Giles recited, intrigued.

"A subservient drone of the bacchanalian daemon class," Willow read aloud. "Whose powers may only surface by the possession of the drone's talisman."

"While the caste system of Sweet's dimension is fairly intriguing, Dawn, I'm afraid we're already aware of his method's for being summoned," Giles explained.

"Keep reading," Dawn urged.

"Sweet's talisman is one of five given to all drones for their efforts and loyal service by a higher ranking cardinal demon named Murmur," Willow read further. "In addition to his musical tutelage he provided for centuries to Satan himself, Murmur joined the ranks of such high officiating demons as Abbadon and Beezlebub and became the laborare ex animus ex portitor."

Giles mumbled the Latin, attempting to decipher it. His translation was grim.

"Collector of Troubled Souls," he supplied.

Willow barely heard Giles' translation as she finished the last passage of the beastiary.

"Murmur answers a mortal's most haunting question and in exchange receives their soul. Most of Murmur's victims are left unaware that not only has their desire been fulfilled but that they are slowing becoming less and less human. Some once-human victims are suspended between dimensions, still encased in their earthly form while serving to aide Murmur in his quest. Others proceed directly to hell, their soul used as the demon's prime energy source to maintain his own human countenance and thereby continue in his mission. The former however do not always survive the suspension and whilst their soul is slowly extracted from their bodies, experience a sudden depressive and vegetative state. _Murmur's voice is especially compelling to those prone to acts of violence, aggression, delinquency or those in a state of lovelorn_."

Dawn's eyes shot to Giles' in horror as Willow finished the last sentence. The six that had gone to seek out this potential demon...

The redhead swallowed difficulty as her two awake companions shared their terror stricken expressions. They were all thinking the same thing.

***

"Don't look like much, do he?" Faith snickered as Robin shook his head in agreement.

"You recognize him?" Spike elbowed the ex-demon woman as the musician known as _'Jason'_ entered the stage.

"Nope. Though of course, if he is a demon, that's probably his human visage. I wouldn't know him by this face anyway," Anya said casually.

"I thought you said it was just one guy," Xander countered.

"It was at first," Spike explained.

He had even more people on stage with him this time. His signature instrument, the accordion, still fastened to his chest. But all the other miscellaneous noise makers were abandoned. The two violinists from last night were present, still flanking him on either side. Behind them, two reed players and three distinct horn players stood to the far left; a microphone before each of them. While a solitary figure stood far right, controlling all percussion.

"Now that you mention it, His band's gotten bigger every time," Spike added.

"Ooh, a demon with expanding promotion skills. Scary," Xander mocked.

Spike rolled his eyes and looked to Buffy pleadingly, hoping _she'd_ at least take him seriously.

It sounded like simple background noise; though there was something distinctly mechanical about the melody. Like a musical factory of cogs churning restlessly; begging to be oiled.

Buffy scanned around the room to watch for any unusual, sudden behavior. She found none. "My Spidey-sense reads zilch."

The three horn players provided back up vocals as a low, rumbling chant began.

_Everybody come sing along,  
I'll steal your soul, pu__t it in my song,  
The melody is like a shrunken head,  
It makes you immortal, it makes you dead_

_Everybody come sing along,  
I'll steal your soul, pu__t it in my song,  
The melody is like a shrunken head,  
It makes you immortal, it makes you dead_His voice roared, rough and menacing; demanding his listeners to heed; horns blaring alongside pounding cymbals.

_You've got to put it in,  
You've got to put it in,  
You've got to put it in the ground.  
__  
Everybody come sing along,  
I'll steal your soul, put it in my song,  
The melody is like a shrunken head,  
It makes you immortal, it makes you dead  
_

The group of six were caught off guard but strangely, didn't jump into the defensive stance you'd expect of seasoned white hats. They all had, in fact, started to make a move closer to the stage.

And again the man's voice bellowed;

You've got to dig it out,  
You've got to dig it out,  
You've got to go deep down.

Spike shook out of the trance for a split second to see Robin and Faith grab one another forcefully and start to writhe against one another as Anya allowed Xander to dip and twirl her along the dance floor. Spike snapped his head to the side to address Buffy before he realized she'd wandered toward the stage, her gaze directly focused on the lead singer who it seemed, was speaking directly to her.

"Buffy!" Spike shouted over the band's chanting, their eerie chorus growing louder and louder each iteration. Spike stumbled as he made a move for the blonde woman, slipping back into his own trance again. He couldn't say for certain what he was doing as the sensation filtered through his being. It slowed him down, he knew that much. His vision felt fuzzy, like his depth perception was compromised. Still, he could make out a blurry outline of Buffy's tiny figure in the distance, edging closer and closer to the stage.  
_  
You have done this all before,  
You've got to put it in,  
And you will do this all again.  
You've got to put it in,  
You have done this all before,  
You've got to put it in the ground  
And you will do this all again.  
You've got to dig it out,  
You have done this all before  
You've got to dig it out,  
And you will do this all again.  
You've got to go deep down._

The last thing Spike heard was the overwhelming pull of violins, the faint echo of the reeds, and then nothing.

_**To Be Continued… **_

**_AN: All songs are by Jason Webley (except of course for "Heart and Soul".)_**


	6. Enlightened

_**AN: I haven't received any reviews for this sotry yet, but I see a lot of hits and even some alerts, so thank you at least for that! Please feel free to leave a comment or two, though. Just to let me know what you think! Enjoy!**_

**_Previously:_**

_The last thing Spike heard was the overwhelming pull of violins, the faint echo of the reeds, and then nothing._

_***_

_**Chapter Six  
**__**Enlightened**_

_Audi vide tare si vis vivere in pace_

"Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil," Giles repeated obediently before the door of the Dungeon. He, Kennedy and Dawn watch on nervously as a decidedly glowing Willow nodded and continued the invocation in Latin, sealing the magic around them.

_Aegroto dum anima est spea esse dicitur_

"Where there is life, there is hope."

And the entrance door burst open as the sound of could only be the demon's victims rang out. The group dashed inside the club at once and found themselves at once among a war zone.

Dawn and Giles spotted Faith, Robin, Buffy, Anya and Xander lying on the floor and rushed to them; leaving Kennedy to notice one particular person's absence.

"Where's Spike?" She cried out.

An eerie laughter came from the stage and Willow snapped her head to address its owner.

There stood the demon, still in his human form; his band of soulless half suspended, humans frozen behind him. The stage spot seemed to shine down on him only and at once Willow approached.

_Quid times?_

"What do you fear?" Murmur wondered menacingly.

Willow wasted no time. Thrusting her hands out to expel her magic; the white light than shone upon her outside resonated once more.

_Tibi seris, tibi metis. _

"I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul," she echoed.

Murmur's human gaze widened in appreciation as he realized he was not dealing with another ordinary human being. The two illuminated figures now faced off.

_Dea Certe_

"Most assuredly a Goddess."

"You better believe it," Willow sneered.

_Cave ne Cadas _

"The bigger they come, the harder they fall," Murmur snickered.

Kennedy abandoned her earlier thought and had run to help Giles and Dawn retrieve their fallen comrades.

"Giles," Dawn whined, "Buffy's not breathing!"

Giles sighed but barely had time to consider Dawn's plea as he and Kennedy pulled the dead weight of Robin over to toward the door next to Faith.

Willow concentrated on the demon as he calmly followed the glowing woman's movements.

_De medio tollere malus animus_

"Away with evil intent."

Murmur laughed heartily as he explained his purpose simply.

_Contra malum mortis non est medicamen in hortis._

"No one wins out against death."

_Post tenebras lux  
__Consilio et animus  
__Animo et fide  
__Lux!  
__Lux!_

"After darkness: light. By wisdom and courage, by courage and faith. Light! Light!"

Murmur laughed away the young girl's words and shook a crooked finger at her warningly.

_Compesce Mentem_

"Control your temper."

Willow's eyes grew wider as her pupils began to dilate and the warm glow began to harden into a mist of black. The wisps of hair she could see about her turning a decidedly darker shade.

_Indictum sit!_

"Bite your tongue!" She bellowed, her voice now having dropped a couple registers as the angry and vindictive dark magic overtook her.

"No," Willow pleaded, "This isn't possible. This…this can't be happening!"

"Afraid of the dark magic, are we?"

Murmur's eyes sparkled as the girl before him struggled with the blackness that threatened and seized the opportunity to turn the tables and invoke his own reprimand.

_Tempus omnia revelat  
__Sunt lacrimae rerum  
__Eventus stultorum magister  
__Etiam santo vulnere ci catrix manet_

"Time reveals everything. Human lives are never free of sorrow and fools can only learn through experience. Even when the wound has healed, the scar remains."

Willow's chest was heaving as the goodness fought with the evil magic Murmur's thrall delivered. She spoke again slowly, steadying her breath and reminding herself the chant she'd been using before.

_Audi vide tare si vis vivere in pace  
__Consilio et anmus  
__Animo et fide_

"Willow!" Kennedy screamed, seeing her girlfriend's body convulse as the dueling spectrums of magic fought within her. The slayer turned back to her other compatriots and gave them a wild look. "Giles, we gotta get out of here!"

"Where's Spike?" Dawn cried, remembering Kennedy's earlier question as Giles stopped before the door; a still seemingly lifeless Buffy in his arms.

The older man's heart constricted at what he was about to suggest, though it was ultimately in their best interest.

"We don't have time to look, Dawn. Please, help me get Buffy and the others into the car."

Dawn barely contained her sobbing as she nodded; in a daze of worry and panic as she did as she was told. Kennedy lifted Xander on her own and dragged him outside as well.

Murmur barely noticed nor cared that a group of his victims were being hauled away. The damage had been done. He mused on this ideal to the young woman before him.

_Est quaedam flere voluptas_

"There's a certain pleasure in weeping," he sighed longingly.

_Et semel emissum volat irrevocable verbum_

"Watch what you say," Willow breathed; the white light slowly resurfacing.

Murmur narrowed his gaze suddenly as Willow waved her hand in the air; the lights all around now shining down on the demon upon the stage, blinding him.

_Esto quod esse videris_

"Be what you seem to be," she commanded him.

A horrible growl emanated from the man as the demon's true from began to emerge. His skin cracked and a slimy, albino head escaped through the mouth of the human body, pulling and stretching the skin out of its way like the mouth was the vessel towards birth.

Mucus and slime covered the demon's blindingly white body, the once more-aesthetically pleasing human form lay pooled at its feet like a dropped blanket. Willow took slow, laborious breathes to combat the urge to throw up at the sight.

_Dom loquor hora fugit_

"No more talking. It's business now," Willow warned.

Murmur paid her no mind, though he was sufficiently weaker and more exposed in his true demon state. His burning red eyes bore into the witch and attempted to enthrall her once more but she stopped him with a firmly held hand in the air.

_Qua est lamia?_

"Where is the vampire?" She demanded.

The ridge above one eye raised in curiosity, where an eyebrow would normally be, as Murmur considered her question.

_Docunt volentem fata, nolentum trahunt_

"The fates lead the willing and _drag _the _unwilling_."

_QUA EST LAMIA?_

Willow fumed, holding out both hands as the air around the demon began to constrict; visibly choking him as he reached for his throat in reaction.

_Et sceleratis sol oritur  
__At detur digniore_

"The sun shines even on the wicked," he croaked, "But let it be given to one more worthy."

Willow's brow furrowed in annoyance. She thrust her arms forth once more; suffocating the demon further until he pleaded with her; informing her with her previous invocation.

_Post tenebras lux!  
__Tempus omnia revelat!_

Willow held one hand out to keep the demon at bay as she dared a quick glance behind her. The rest of her group was nowhere to be found. She could only hope they had gotten themselves and the others back to safety.

She turned once more to the demon.

_Vos got quis vos venit pro  
__Aliam excute quercum!_

"You got what you came for. Now, get lost!" She cried.

_Fugere est triumphus!_

"He that fights and runs away, lives to see another day!"

Willow shot one last wave toward the demon as he disappeared in blast. Willow inhaled deeply and collapsed to her knees, shuddering and crying as the magical force she'd been using was ripped from her being.

She shakily scanned the room around her and noticed the emptiness. The silence that now surrounded her. A groan escaped from above and Willow craned her neck to see its source. Her eyes widened in horror as a once-suspended Spike came crashing down to land beside her.

***

_Reverto ut vita  
__Reverto ut vita_

"Return to life. Return to life."

Willow was running on adrenaline, there was no other answer for her ability to rectify Mumur's damage. The battle against the demon had taken so much out of her already. But the longer she waited to attempt to revive her friends, the worse it would be.

She's transported herself and Spike back to the apartments in an instant. The vampire was not dead…or well, didn't appear to be in the same condition as the rest. Andrew was notified and debriefed downstairs in the studio while Willow was left alone to work her remaining mojo.

Spike was seated rigidly in a chair inside the lounge that the comatose bodies were being kept. He'd barely looked anywhere but straight ahead since he and the witched were beamed back home. He couldn't remember how it had happened to him, but he distinctly remembered _what._

Giles had probed him for information, right after Dawn had almost crushed him in her embrace. Spike supposed he hugged her back, though he was still in a proper daze. Maybe he hadn't. He was obviously well enough to be interrogated by the senior Watcher. And he spoke as best he could in the moment, as liberally as his body would allow him.

Spike recalled the scene before the music had faded from his senses; how he'd been at once entranced and still lucid despite the rest of the group's unfaltering hypnosis.

_He vaguely remembered blacking out. And though he'd lost consciousness of the dimension he sat in now, for him that hadn't meant that he'd lost consciousness in some other dimension. No, he was sure he'd been transported somewhere, some inescapable purgatory that neither allowed him to perish or rest._

"Like being ripped in half?" _Giles echoed Spike's words in astonishment._

_Indeed, like both sides were sizing him up and yet, there was no auditor to be found, anywhere. He was literally alone in this chasm of feuding energies. _

_He knew he'd still been desperately worried about Buffy, about the whelp, even and Anya…hell, even the brassy other Slayer and her principal. He'd seen them fall victim to the demon's thrall before he himself had passed out. But he had no way of getting to them. No way of even spying on them to know they were alright. _

_Then, the voices came. No bodies to own the voices he heard, but voices; all around him. Their gender was irrelevant; he couldn't discern details like that anyway. But he heard them, at least a handful if he was listening right. They seemed to be arguing about something; something that may or may not have concerned him. He'd tried to call out to the voices. Nothing. His voice made no sound in this place. Every growl, every cry, every curse: nothing._

_Then the voices stopped. A space in the floor, not unlike a hole, had been burned into the center. Spike edged nearer, trying to examine what was held beneath it without presumably falling through. It was Red. And the demon! _

"Qua est lamia?"_ He heard. He knew what that meant. The chit was demanding to know where he was. _"Qua est lamia?"_ She'd asked again._

_Then he'd heard and seen the demon, as clear as day through this whir-pool in the floor. _

The fates lead the willing, drag the unwilling…  
The sun shines even on the wicked…  
Let it be given to one more worthy…  
After darkness; light…  
Time reveals everything…

Spike snapped out of his petrified state and stood up abruptly. He remembered what happened after the demon spoke those words.

_Willow had defeated him or at least, scared him off for a long time. He ended up suspended by nothing above the Dungeon. He remembered Willow's frightful scream and he remembered falling quickly and landing with a painful thud before her._

Everything…everything that was happening…everything that had been happening since he'd returned…Murmur's words burned into his being, haunting and taunting him.

Spike glanced at the clock. Five forty two. Good. He needed to know. He needed to see for himself. And if he was wrong, well then…he was wrong.

"Spike?" Willow's distracted plea rang out. She was still invoking some advanced Olympian-sized mojo to revive the fallen heroes.

He couldn't bring himself to look back at her progress. Buffy was among them, and if he stopped to see her lifeless face now, he'd never leave. No, he had something else he had to do.

"Spike?" Willow called out once more; though her current position made it impossible for her to run after him. He winced slightly as Willow's desperate pleas faded the further away he walked.

He passed a couple frantic newbie Slayer girls on his way down the stairwell. They attempted greetings and questions, all were ignored. He didn't have the patience or time right now. He stopped cold when he arrived at the bottom of the steps.

To his left, stood the doorway to the alley, where he could run into the rising sun and see for himself, nobody the wiser.

To his right, the door that lead into the studio, where he knew the Watcher, Niblet and Red's girlfriend were still most likely awake and pacing; awaiting results.

He supposed he could pop in real quick, alert them of his potential self-imposed dusting, in the event his hunch was incorrect. But that seemed counterproductive. So, with a proud though fearful sniffle, Spike led himself out through the first door with a resounding punch.

The force of his movement slammed the metal panel back into the building before slowly pulling itself back to a closed position where an eerie click sounded as the door met flush with the jamb.

He waved the thought away as he walked further down the alley; seeing the ripe beginnings of dawn approaching. Bloody hell, it'd been a long night. And it would prove an even longer day still if Red's magicks didn't kick in soon.

Of course, if once he stepped out of the protection of the shade beyond the building's edge and his theory was incorrect, a long day wouldn't matter. Nay, nothing would. He'd be dead….again.

He stopped at the edge of the high-rise, where the faded trim of shadow ended and gave away to the first signs of morning light. He took a few unneeded but calming breaths to prepare himself.

Slowly as the sun rose higher and higher; the blue becoming more and more yellow and then into white…Spike placed one foot out into the sun.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	7. In Limbo

_**Reflection**_

_**AN: Sorry for the delay. Life's been hard and it caught up to me. Anyway, thank you to those who reviewed the story and are enjoying it. Here's the next chapter. The AtS related timeline is out of place (for obvious AU reasons. Just using bits and pieces. ) So, keep that in mind. Please read and review!**_

_**Chapter Seven  
In Limbo**_

_Reverto ut vita_

Willow flinched as Giles' hand came down on her shoulder.

He spoke softly. "Willow, perhaps—"

Bloodshot and teary eyes looked back at him as the redhead whipped her head around, "I'm not leaving her."

Giles sighed but nodded as he dared a glance at the body in question. Willow, had managed to suture the soul-sucking wound inflicted upon the rest of the group, all except Buffy.

As it was, Robin, Faith, Anya and Xander were not immediately healed; their constitutions still weary and sapped. Giles supposed the two women would yield faster results as Slayer and ex-demon, respectively, though all four would need daily treatments to achieve expedient convalescence.

But Buffy was a different story. She had yet to stir under Willow's desperate invocations.

Though the redhead's history with bringing her blonde friend back to life had not initially been a positive one, Willow knew the difference in circumstance this time.

"This wasn't a sacrifice, Giles," Willow muttered after a moment, her hands still ghosting over the lifeless shell of her friend. "I need to bring her back."

"Well it's not working, is it?" Giles said quietly but firmly. He understood Willow's conviction, but it made him nervous, her sometimes immovability.

"Then find me something that will," she seethed.

_***_

"Spike?" Dawn's frantic voice called out as the metal door slammed open

"Bloody hell!" Spike turned abruptly and glared at the girl, "Dawn, go back inside."

The teen stared back at him bewildered, "You called me 'Dawn'," she reasoned, "Something's definitely wrong."

Spike stepped back into the shade and managed a sneer at her comment before holding up a hand to dismiss her. "Niblet, I mean it. Go back inside."

Dawn crossed her arms indignantly and leaned between the door and jamb, propping the metal panel open with her elbow. "Why?"

Spike rolled his eyes, "Cause the bleedin' house is on fire! Just go away!"

Dawn raised a skeptical eyebrow before realization hit, "Were you gonna step into the sun?"

"None of your damn business."

"Spike, it's okay. The demon must have infected you or something. Come back inside with me, you don't hav—"

"Sack your 'victim on a ledge' spiel, poppet," Spike barked, "I'm not a jumper. That demon didn't do anything to me."

"But we found you—"

"Hourglass dimension," Spike interjected again.

"A what?" Dawn checked.

"Hourglass di—," Spike started again, "It's a conduit, a holding pen…for, souls in limbo."

Dawn fixed him a confused look, "But you said the demon—"

"He didn't," Spike reassured her. "He couldn't do anything to me cause…"

"Cause you're not human," Dawn quietly supposed.

Spike snickered, "Not yet."

***

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Giles stated bashfully. "Though I must admit, I didn't expect you _so_ soon."

Angel smirked but nodded, "Working for a demonic law firm certainly has its perks."

Giles snickered and turned to the young woman beside the tall vampire. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

"Oh, this is Fred," Angel announced, motioning to the girl.

"Winifred," Fred clarified as she shook the elder Watcher's hand, "Winifred Burkle."

"Pleasure," Giles smiled back. "You are acquainted with Willow, yes?"

Fred nodded; her polite smile turning to a frown as the reason for her arrival in Cleveland suddenly resurfacing.

"How is she?" Fred braved the question.

Giles ceremoniously removed his glasses and began his ritual wipe down, "Not well, I'm afraid. Though I reckon your presence should revitalize her quite a bit."

"Fred, why don't you find Willow," Angel suggested, ushering the young woman away before turning back to Giles. "There's something I'd like to discuss with Rupert."

Giles quirked a curious eyebrow toward the ancient vamp before giving Fred a courteous smile and waving down one of the girls.

"Fred this is Violet," Giles introduced the woman quickly, "Violet is one of our new charges. She'll be more than happy to lead you to Willow."

Fred nodded and shook the man's hand once more before greeting the Slayer girl briefly and disappeared behind the door.

"Where's everybody else?" Angel wondered; scanning the now virtually empty studio.

Giles too, stole a quick glance around. "The other newly found Slayers are upstairs with the rest. Kennedy, one of our senior charges and, and…well…she and Willow are…."

"I got it, Giles," Angel snickered.

"Yes, quite," Giles nodded, "Well, she's insisted on watching over Willow while she performed her magicks. Andrew and the other charges have taken to administering hospice to Xander, Anya, Faith and Robin."

"Where's Spike? Dawn?" Angel wondered.

Giles considered this with another fruitless scan of the room, "I don't know," the man answered truthfully. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen either of them since this morning."

"And Buffy?" Angel dared.

"She's…well, as you know, that's why I called you."

Angel sighed and shoved his hands deep into his pockets before he began to pace, watching with morbid fascination through the wall of mirrors as Giles seemed to be following nothing.

The Watcher finally spoke again, "You said there was something you wanted to discuss?"

_*******_

"You're what?" Dawn balked as she slid down to the ground; slumping against the doorway.

Spike pointed an accusing finger at the girl, "Not a word out of your gullet, Niblet."

Dawn stared back at him, still in shock over his revelation. "But…why?"

Spike sighed and crossed to sit beside her on the ground; the awning of the building still effectively shielding him from the morning sun. "Don't rightly know, pet."

"Is this what Buffy meant about you being sick?"

"Buffy doesn't know, love. Like to keep that way for now."

Dawn fixed him a worried look, "Why?"

Spike rolled his eyes, "Do you know any other word besides that one?"

Dawn's stony face remained even as she shot a playful punch to Spike's arm. "I'm serious. Why not tell Buffy?"

"Look, pet…" the bleached blonde vamp sighed once more, "Don't even know if it's true, yeah? But if it is… not gonna be much use to the Slayer, am I?"

"A whole army of Slayers," Dawn mused distractedly.

"I'll be as pointless as the whelp, Harris. _Worse_ I reckon," Spike rambled on, "At least the pillock's got street cred, or whatever you call it, now. I was more pathetic than Andrew when I was human…"

"But if you were human again," Dawn supposed, "You and Buffy—"

Spike turned sharply at the girl, "No we wouldn't, Bit."

Dawn glared back, "You didn't let me finish."

"Don't want to hear the rest," he sniffed, "Don't _need _to hear the rest. I'd gladly _die again _before becoming _human _again."

"That's so unfair!" Dawn accused.

"How's that, then?"

"Don't you think Buffy or someone should get a say in all this?"

"Why?" Spike challenged, "It's my unlife, ain't it? Or my possible _real_ life…"

"Were you ever gonna tell us?" Dawn asked after a moment, "I mean, if I hadn't run out here when I did…would you have told us?"

Spike sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He wished he'd had the foresight to have remembered his smokes. "Prolly not."

"Well," Dawn snickered and shook her head in disgust; crashing back against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest. "Where do we go from here?"

***

"Right there," Willow motioned to the other woman. "That's fine."

Fred nodded and began setting up her equipment, affixing the appropriate contraptions to Buffy's still form. Fred regarded the unconscious blonde for a moment before turning back to address Willow.

"She's…"

"She's alive," Willow finished the girl's thought. "She's just…not _really _with us…"

Fred nodded numbly, "I'll do my best."

"Fred, do you…do you mind if I leave you alone for a minute?" The redhead wondered.

Fred shook her head, "No, not at all."

"Thanks," Willow sighed, "I'll be right back. I just…I need some air…"

Fred watched pensively for a moment before returning her attention back onto Buffy. She didn't know the girl personally. Though if Angel's urgency was anything to go by and the stories she'd heard from Wesley back in L.A…

She hoped she could help. Angel clearly cared for this girl. Fred could relate. Though her relationship with Gunn was well passed it's time, she'd still be utterly devastated if anything happened to him. And Wesley…well, their budding romance only served to prove that point further. Cordelia's recent passing was not necessarily unexpected, having been in a coma for far too long to render any hope of seeing her come out of it. But it still had thrown them all. They'd been rattled as a unit for some time, Angel especially. Fred couldn't let that happen again.

***

"Fascinating, really," Giles sighed as he sank down into his chair.

Angel continued to pace back and forth before him; his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"The question still is, I'm afraid," Giles continued, "Why is this happening to Spike?"

Angel released a small but bitter chuckle and shrugged, "Got me, Giles. I've been coveting the Shanshu prophecy since I found out about it. It was supposed to be mine."

"Then you found it to be a myth?" Giles checked uncertainly.

"Then it turned out that was just another test. To see it how much I really wanted it."

Giles gave the still pacing Master Vampire a pensive smile before removing his glasses and setting them on the table delicately beside him.

"If I may, how would becoming human benefit you, exactly?"

Angel stopped his pacing and turned to look at the man. "Are you serious?" he asked flatly.

Giles resisted the want to roll his eyes at Angel's sudden petulance. "Because if this is about being with Buffy—"

"Giles," Angel said quickly; holding up a hand to stop him, "I know that can't happen."

"Because, as unbelievable as it might seem—" Giles attempted to start again before Angel interrupted one more time.

"She loves Spike. I know."

Giles said nothing to confirm the vamp's declaration. They both knew it was true.

"So," Giles spoke after a moment of awkward silence. "Perhaps allowing Spike to fulfill this…Shanshu business is what was meant to happen."

"Spike doesn't want it."

Giles affixed his glasses back upon his face and furrowed his brow. "Spike is aware of what's happening to him?"

Angel merely nodded.

"And he's not in favor?"

Again, Angel nodded. "You know Spike. Can't ever just let anything be."

Giles remained inquisitive. "How extraordinary. I had no idea Spike was apprised of the situation."

Angel snickered, "Even my disapproval couldn't convince him to want it."

"That Spike would have the opportunity to, to…become what he so obviously thought Buffy would want and yet not take it…it's fascinating."

Angel sighed sadly, "Spike doesn't want to feel powerless. There's nothing superhuman about being human."

***

Willow was thankful Kennedy had left before Fred arrived. She needed to be alone. She was happy to see Winifred too, but the pleasantries would have to wait. Willow felt torn. She was, for the first time, regretful for not having taken the ascended position of Goddessdom. She could dole out mortality without a hitch, if she wanted. She'd have Buffy back in no time, heal Xander and the others in a snap. But it was too much power, and she had been fearful of that much responsibility.

Buffy wasn't dead this time. But she was lost, which was almost worse. In limbo somewhere. Even consulting the Gem of Iamblichus had been fruitless this time.

"So much for other-worldly powers," she grumbled to herself as she descended the stairs.

Her hand was at the doorknob when she heard the muffled voices of Giles and Angel. And had she been in any other mood but distraught she would have simply opened the door and greeted the two men. But their conversation stopped her cold.

She pressed her ear further up against the frame to listen closer. Her eyes widening as certain details now became frighteningly clear.

"_If I may, how would becoming human benefit you, exactly?"_

"_Spike doesn't want it."_

"_Spike is aware of what's happening to him?"_

"…_There's nothing superhuman about being human."_

"Interesting place to rest your head, Red," Spike's voice rang out suddenly.

Willow whipped her head around to face the source, a wide-eyed Dawn standing dutifully beside him.

She opened her mouth to defend herself before something else was realized. There Spike stood. On the other side of the stairwell, the other doorway to the alley propped open with his foot, the morning sun shining down on him.

_**To Be Continued…**_


	8. Mythtaken

_**Reflection**_

_**Chapter Eight  
**__**Mythtaken**_

"You're..."

Spike quirked an eyebrow at the witch and gestured for Dawn to enter before him. The younger girl did so and crossed to sit on the lower stair between the two adults.

Spike held the door open behind him with his hand and smirked at Willow.

"Need to see that one more time? Want me to keep this open?" He teased.

Willow cleared her throat and discontinued her startled fish impression. "So it's true?"

Spike's smirk leveled a bit, "Could sense Angel's presence. Heard him and the Watcher talking."

Dawn perked up at this, "Well that's not very human of you."

Spike shot her an eye roll, "Haven't lost it all yet, Bit."

Willow shook her head in disbelief, "But how? I mean, how? Why?"

"You're the one gone all 'Harriet the Spy' there, Red. You tell me. What is it?"

Willow shrugged. "I didn't catch that part."

"Well," Spike sniffed, "Let's just ask then, shall we?"

Willow made a move to stop him but Spike was already at the door. Ripping it open and storming into the training room, Willow and Dawn close behind.

Giles stood abruptly as Angel spun around to see his grandchilde and the two women.

"Spike," Giles started to say as the blonde vamp cut him off.

"So, the Great Gelled One is here to enlighten us all," Spike announced emphatically.

Angel rolled his eyes, "We're here to help Buffy, not you."

"_We're_ here? Who else you manage to strangle into your helpless helping?"

"Fred Burkle—" Angel started to say as Spike laughed.

"Fred Burkle?" He chortled, "Who's he, some poncy Watcher breed or another?" Spike craned his head to look for the other person mention before his eyes settled back on Giles. "No offense, Rupes."

Giles sighed; annoyed, "None taken."

"_Winifred_," Angel bit out with emphasis, "Is a specialist in Paranormal Biotechnology. If anyone can help us it's _her_."

Spike scoffed, "Ooh, a bird is it? Paranormal Biotechnology? Fancy."

Giles held his hand out to stop Spike's further antagonizing. "Perhaps we should discuss _your_ recent situation, Spike?"

Dawn traded a nervous look with Willow as Spike glared back at the Watcher. Angel stepped forward and put a hand on Giles' shoulder.

"That can wait," he told the man; redirecting his attention now to the redhead. "Willow, how's Fred doing? Did you guys make any progress?"

Willow blanched, "I left as soon as she came in. I told her I needed some air," she explained pitifully, "I don't know if she's found anything yet."

Angel sighed but nodded, "I've got Wesley on the books back home, why don't I call him? See if he's come up with anything, okay?"

Willow nodded weakly, "I'll head back up, see how she's doing."

The witch gave the group a saddened smile before spinning around to leave. Angel nodded then turned back to Giles, "Why don't you and Spike have that little talk now?"

Spike rolled his eyes, "Oh, giving out the orders now are we? Yes, General Forehead, sir."

"Spike," Giles hissed, grabbing the man's arm. "Sit."

Spike pulled away from Giles' grip and eyed him menacingly before slowly taking a seat at the table across the way.

Dawn looked around for a moment, crossing her arms over her chest before speaking up. "As usual, Dawn is useless."

Giles and Spike turned to face the young girl before regarding each other.

"There is a bit of research to be done," Giles informed her, "I believe your astuteness will come in handy."

Dawn snickered but came to sit beside Spike at the table regardless, "Yeah right."

"You're safer here than with Red and the Ghost Buster upstairs, Platelet," Spike reasoned softly.

Dawn released a tiny giggle as Giles cleared his throat, effectively gaining the pair's attention.

"First," Giles began, looking directly at Spike, "There's a prophecy."

***

Fred scanned the book before her, cross-referencing the instructions with the gadgets she'd assembled onto Buffy's body. Everything looked to be in order. She'd never done any experiments like this outside of the lab of Wolfram & Hart, so she hoped she was doing it right.

A soft tap came from the door and Fred spun her head to see Willow reenter slowly. The shy brunette gave the other woman a soft smile and gestured for her to join her.

"Feeling better?" Fred wondered.

Willow sank to the floor and stared at her friend's still figure, "Spike's turning human," she said distractedly.

Fred shot Willow a wide eyed look, "What?"

"I overheard Angel and Giles downstairs," Willow continued, "Spike's becoming human but he doesn't want to. Something about—"

"The Shanshu," Fred finished for her.

Willow lifted her gaze and studied Fred's expression, "Yeah. What is it?"

***

"A gift, to restore one's humanity," Giles explained.

Spike sucked on his teeth to prevent the snarky comments he wanted to release while Dawn diligently flipped through the textbook that Angel had brought with him.

"This says it was meant for a champion. Possessed of a soul, greater than human. The champion, harnessing the Amulet of Shansu, will save the world, immediately restoring his humanity."

"Amulet?" Giles and Spike spoke in unison.

Dawn shrugged as Giles reached to read the passage himself as Spike turned a vicious glare to across the room where Angel sat discussing something on the phone to Wesley.

Spike resisted the urge to leap from his seat and throttle his grandsire. The amulet. The soddin' necklace Angel had given to Buffy, who in turn had given it to him.

Resistance didn't last long. Spike shot up and sprang toward the taller vampire, clutching his neck with one hand. Dawn and Giles raced to their own feet and watched in frozen horror as Angel dropped the phone and batted the younger vamp's hand away, effectively tossing the bleached blond to the floor.

"Boy, you've got a lot of nerve," Angel reprimanded; straightening his jacket and reaching over for his fallen phone.

"You selfish ponce!" Spike spat, standing back up. "_You_ were supposed to wear that damn thing, weren't you?"

Angel gave Spike an annoyed look, "I'm on the phone!"

Spike rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in defeat, "Bloody brilliant!" he cried, pacing back and forth before Angel like a caged tiger. "If you wanted this Shanshu rot so badly, why the hell give the amulet away?"

Angel tried to block out Spike's tirade as he struggled against the earpiece of his cell. Wesley had enlightened him with some startling facts about both Buffy and Spike's condition. And as yet, had tried to remain calm and collected on the phone, waiting until he had all the information to inform the right people. But right now, Spike was making that very difficult.

"Didn't know what would happen did you?" Spike continued, "Didn't want to deal with the consequences, did you? That's Angel for ya, wants all the pleasure none of the pain!"

"Thanks Wes, I think I've heard enough. I will, yes. Bye," Angel snapped the phone shut and hauled his fist straight into Spike's nose; effectively sending the man flying into the wall.

"I said," Angel sighed, "I was on the phone."

***

"So Angel's known about Spike's 'condition' all this time?" Willow clarified.

Fred nodded, "We all have. Angel received a huge dossier on Spike shortly after he returned. Someone at Wolfram & Hart must have been contacted about the resurrection spell y'all performed. He's been getting updates on it ever since."

"But it's not the Shanshu?" Willow checked.

"I don't see how it could be," Fred said, "Though I'm sure to Angel it must look that way. He always seemed to accuse Spike of taking what was his."

Willow managed a small smile at that, her eyes falling back to one of the 'things' she was sure Angel was referring to.

"Does it have something to do with the Amulet itself then?" Willow wondered, still staring at Buffy. "I mean, Angel said he didn't know how the amulet got back to him when he sent it to Buffy. And then Buffy used it in the spell…"

"It might," Fred considered, "But the amulet was part of the prophecy. And the Shanshu clearly states an _immediate_ restoration. I always assumed that meant no waiting."

"Boom, Human?" Willow guessed.

Fred nodded, "Now as for Buffy," she motioned to the girl, "You explained to me that after your resurrection spell some years back, ya'll found out there was some complications?"

Willow bit her lip. It was a tender subject for a lot of reasons. Being reminded of performing a spell that was initially ill-received didn't help. The 'complications' Fred referred to being that Buffy had discovered a chemical change that had somehow made her come back not entirely human, though the percentage was small. A discovery she had made and told Tara about. Tara, remembering her slain lover and the aftermath of that wasn't helping either.

"I'm sorry," Willow squeaked, realizing she'd begun to cry. "Umm, yes. There was an auric disruption in Buffy's biology when she was brought back."

Fred remained professional, for Willow's sake, and simply nodded, "Yes, and that discrepancy is reading on my scanner. It's small, but it's there. See these little blue flecks?"

Fred turned the contraption toward the other girl and showed her the screen. Sure enough, a topographic image of white and red swirls shown; along with tiny blue streaks.

"Now, normally, a straight-up, Grade A, 100 percent human being would show all white. Demons, umm—pure bred demons, show up red. And well, other things…show up blue."

Willow furrowed her brow to indicate her confusion. Fred giggled and explained further.

"Because Buffy's a Slayer, she has demon essence within her, right? Hence the red. But these blue bits? Well, whatever about her got altered, it altered the human part of her. It didn't touch the demon essence. But that also explains why we can't reach her right now.

Whatever Murmur did to her, it wouldn't have killed her. But I think she might be trapped between dimensions."

"She wasn't human enough for Murmur to steal her soul," Willow realized distractedly.

"And she wasn't demon enough to be immune," Fred concluded.

"But why can't this," Willow held up the Iamblichus, "Why can't I reach her if she's in another dimension?"

Fred sighed, "That's for looking into another dimensions, right?" Willow nodded as Fred continued.

"Well, she's not just in one. She's in two. Her physical presence is here. But we don't know where her spirit is. She could be anywhere."

"So how do we get her back?"

"I think we need to fix how this all started."

***

"Bloody twat," Spike seethed under the compress Dawn was holding to his face.

He was a right mess. Could still sense other vamps and had advanced hearing, but now couldn't take a punch properly. Stake him now, if that'd even work anymore.

Angel shot Spike a bored look and turned back to address Giles. "I have some information from Wesley."

Giles nodded and took his seat once more at the table, "I gathered."

"Someone's conducting an experiment," Angel continued; tossing a hefty folder onto the table.

"I brought this as well," Angel explained, "Didn't think I'd need to show it. Thought I had this all figured out with the Shanshu."

"So there's more to this prophecy?" Giles clarified, reaching to inspect the folder's contents.

Angel shook his head and sank into a free chair. "No. The prophecy is what it is. And the amulet should have done its job," Angel said; shooting Spike a dirty look.

"But it didn't. Spike is slowly becoming human."

Spike snickered and pulled away from Dawn's hold, "State the obvious a bit more, yeah?"

Dawn grabbed him by the arm and pressed the icepack to his face again; effectively shutting him up as Angel sighed.

"Painfully slow," he drawled, "And sporadically. There's no rhyme or reason to his transformation."

"Oh there's a reason, you fu—"

"Hey!" Dawn stopped him with a thump to the head, "Young lady present."

Spike rolled his eyes and just growled at Angel instead.

Angel remained put out but continued with his explanation, "It's not the Shanshu. Something else is happening or…already happened."

"And you think someone else put this—whatever it is—into motion?" Giles wondered.

Angel nodded, "The Powers are benevolent. I can't imagine them responsible for something like this. They wouldn't ask—"

Angel stopped himself. He didn't want to explain what Wesley had revealed.

"The Powers wouldn't ask what?" Giles furthered.

"I don't know if it's the Powers but _someone_—" Angel started again, all eyes looking to him with a mixture of rage and anxiety.

Angel sighed audibly and painfully looked back at the group's awaiting faces.

"Either Buffy or Spike has to die."

_**To Be Continued…**_


End file.
